Hungry Eyes
by A Graton
Summary: Story One of Pentagram Points Series.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Now remember, students, tomorrow we're going to go outside for our final demonstration of the term. Make sure to bring your gloves and your scarves," Professor Sprout instructed. The students were dismissed, packing up their bags and heading out.

Harry Potter threw the last of his papers into his Herbology book and shoved it into his bag as he ran to catch up with his two best friends, Hermione Granger (who was busily reading the next few paragraphs of her favorite book, _Hogwarts, A History_) and Ron Weasley.

"Fascinating lesson wasn't it?" Hermione muttered, not taking her nose out of her book.

"We didn't do anything!" Ron said, rolling his eyes. "We studied the plants we're going to be seeing tomorrow. How exciting is that?"

Hermione said nothing but only grunted. Harry shrugged. "I thought it was interesting."

Ron laughed. "Harry, you fell asleep."

Hermione raised her nose out of her book to glare at the pair as they laughed richly. "It's not funny. What happens if this comes up on the exams? Hmm?"

"Oh calm down, Hermione!" Ron said, laughing. "We'll read the chapter later."

"No you won't," she said, pressing her nose back into her book and walking farther ahead than the other two.

They slowed to a halt. "What's her problem?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," said Ron, watching Hermione. She hadn't acted this strangely since their third year. "You don't suppose it has to do with school, does it?"

"Well, why should it?" Harry asked. "She's the top of every class and she's taking the normal required amount. Besides that, she's Prefect. I don't understand it at all."

"Neither do I," Ron said. He cast a sideways glance at Hermione, who had stopped to talk to a professor before entering their next class, Transfiguration.

Harry sighed. "So are you staying for Christmas break?"

"Oh yeah," Ron said, coming back down to earth. His thoughts had been on Hermione. His thoughts were always suddenly turning to Hermione those days. "Yes, I am staying. I just wrote home yesterday to ask Mum if I could. They're going to stay with Bill anyhow. Ginny will probably be staying here."

"I see," Harry said. "I just don't get…" Yet before Harry could finish his thought, they were interrupted by a familiar fifth year.

"Hello, Harry," said Ginny Weasley's voice. She had run up to them after coming from her last class.

"Hello, Ginny, what is it?" he asked, frowning. Ron stood by, unnoticed.

"Andrew says there's a problem with that new Quidditch form you drew up. He says that we Chasers don't have the room to score with where you've put the Beaters," she explained hastily.

Harry sighed, frustrated. He looked at Ron and smiled apologetically. "I have to go handle this, I'll catch up with you in class. Save me a seat," he called, and he ran off with Ginny.

Ron watched them retreat and found himself all alone, thinking about one thing.

Hermione had clouded his thoughts more often than anything anymore and it was almost annoying. He found that he couldn't do his homework sometimes because of it… not that he did it anyway.

He slowly drifted toward Professor McGonagall's class and looked up at the board in front of the classroom. He read, much to his dismay, 'Today: Animals to Furniture.' He took his usual seat next to Hermione, placing his books on top of Harry's seat. Hermione still had her nose plunged into her book.

Ron cleared his throat. Hermione didn't look up. He cleared his throat again and she still didn't give an inch. Finally, with one loud cough, he managed to attract her attention.

"Don't sit so close to me. I don't want to get what you've got," she barked.

A shocked look crossed his face and turned quickly to one of disappointment. Professor McGonagall walked into the classroom, right by Ron's chair.

"Weasley, where is Mr. Potter?" she asked in the strict tone she was so famous for using.

He looked down at the desk in front of him. "H-He had to go work out a few Quidditch problems."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Well, as long as he's here before we begin," she said, and continued to move forward. Ron half smiled and then looked back at Hermione, who seemed to be completely entranced by her book.

"Hermione," he said.

"What?" she snapped.

He jumped back with a start and then sighed heavily. "Never mind," he said.

She slammed her book shut, which caused Ron to jump once again. "You've been badgering me all day! What do you want?"

"What is your problem?" he asked.

"Problem? Do I always have to have a problem?" she too, was growing angry. "Does it always have to be something?"

"Not always, but right now it does," he said. "You're usually pleasant and for some reason the past few days you've become rather short. I was wondering what was going on."

"Nothing is going on! Can't a girl read?" she said.

"Not if you've read the book three hundred times!" he screamed back at her.

Hermione stuck her nose up and turned away. "Well, I wouldn't expect you of all people to understand what kind of a joy comes out of reading."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" His red eyebrows knit together in confusion and fury.

"_Nothing_," she said, opening her book again. "It just means that you're always complaining about not getting good grades when you don't even read the material. It's hypocritical."

"Hypo…" he started, but was cut off when Harry sat down next to him.

"Hello. Thanks for saving a seat, have we started class yet?" Harry asked, his green eyes wide and full of sudden spirit.

Ron shot an evil look over at Hermione. "No. We haven't."

Hermione put her book down and didn't dare look over at either Harry or Ron. Ron kept his back to Hermione for most of the hour. Harry sighed. It was happening far too often. Petty bickering and stupid fights between Ron and Hermione were becoming a daily routine, and he still had trouble figuring out why.

"All right class," McGonagall said, stepping up to the front of the room. "Today, we'll be changing your pets into tables, desks, and chairs. Now," she said, approaching a large toucan that was perched on the edge of her desk. "You will pick up your wands," she instructed, picking up her own and pointing at the toucan. "One, two, three, _monopodium_." The toucan instantly transformed into a table. The class oohed.

"Now, I want you to start smaller than that for now," she pointed her wand and muttered, "_Finite incantatem_," and the toucan was restored. "I want you to all say with me, one, two, three _cella_. This should turn your animal into a chair."

The class all picked up their wands and pointed it at their pets. Ron picked his up half-heartedly and managed to say the words completely inaudibly. Hermione sighed disgustedly.

"What? Did I do something wrong _as usual_?" he snapped at her.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, you did," she said.

"Hang on," Harry said. "Ron, do it over."

"What? But I was—"

"Just do it!" Harry yelled.

"Yes, do it," Hermione said, pointing her nose up again.

"You stay out of this," Harry said.

Holding his wand so tightly in his hand his knuckles were turning white, Ron spitefully over enunciated, "_Cell-a_."

Hermione only turned her head briskly away from Ron and muttering something that sounded a lot like, "That's better."

For the remainder of Transfiguration, a tense silence filled the air between Ron and Hermione. Harry felt it grow. Within a few days, there would be a burst of emotions and he didn't want to be there to see it this time.

They were then dismissed to lunch and as quickly as she possibly could, Hermione gathered up her things and rushed out the door. Ron spat, "Good riddance."

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Go talk to her."

Ron looked at Harry as if he were crazy. "_What?_"

"Go talk to her," he repeated. "And I'm serious."

"Why don't _you_ go and talk to her?" he said stubbornly.

"Because I'm not the one she's angry at."

"Exactly," Ron said, a sudden distressed look coming about his face. "She won't yell at you."

Harry looked at his friend sympathetically. "Maybe if you didn't push every one of her buttons she wouldn't yell at you."

Ron remained quiet as they walked to the Great Hall. Upon entering, they found Hermione sitting in her usual seat. Her quill was pressed harder on the paper and writing faster than anyone's they had ever seen.

Ron sat uncomfortably next to her and cleared his throat.

"What did I tell you?" Hermione snapped without looking up. "I don't want to catch your cold, don't sit so close to me. I can't afford to be sick."

He looked at Harry, asking for help. Harry too, cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak.

"Am I the only healthy person anymore?" she said, finally looking up. She shoved her parchment papers into the books, slammed it shut, and gathered up her things. She fled the Great Hall, no doubted heading toward the library.

A crooked look told Harry that Ron desperately wanted to talk to her, and immediately following lunch Harry quickly made his way toward the library.

To no one's surprise Hermione was sitting in a back corner. She had three books open and a roll of parchment in front of her, half written on. Harry sat down quietly in front of her.

"I can't believe it," she muttered after he sat in silence for a couple of seconds. "We have a three-paged essay due for Potions by tomorrow and I'm still on the first page! What is wrong with me?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off abruptly by Hermione's rant. "I mean, I seem to be falling behind somehow lately, and I don't know why." _What a lie_, she thought suddenly.

As a sixteen-year-old girl began to lose control in front of him, Harry sat up straight in his chair and began to speak. "Listen, Hermione," he began quietly. "I have no idea why you've been so short lately, but I want you to know that Ron¾"

"Ron!" Hermione yelled. "RON? What has _he_ got to do with anything?"

Harry was completely amazed in the change of tone Hermione had exhibited when the conversation turned to Ron. She had been civil one moment, unbelievably hostile the next.

"Hermione, listen, I was just¾"

"What does he have to do with this conversation? Why was he brought into it?"

It was as if she wanted nothing to do with Ron whatsoever. Almost like she didn't even want to hear his name.

"He's really worried about you," Harry said.

"Well," Hermione said, her tone softening in the slightest. "If he's so worried about me, tell him to come talk to me and not send you." And with a slam of her books and her chair, she fled the library to her next class.

Harry watched her go, his mouth hanging open. What was going on here? There was obviously some serious problems with this girl if she was going to fly off the handle every time a certain name was mentioned.

A certain person.

The next few hours Ron and Hermione barely said but two stifled words to each other, while Harry stood by and scratched his head furiously. It made absolutely no sense whatsoever, that two best friends could go at each other's throats so horribly and not seem to mind at all the next day.

Hermione was having a frustrating time in doing her Arithmancy homework that day. Not only were her equations becoming harder and harder to work out, but she was also having trouble getting Ron out of her head.

For the past few weeks he had done nothing but sit inside of her thoughts, and for once in her life she couldn't figure out why. She couldn't answer something and it was killing her.

It also completely bewildered her that every time she saw Ron, something inside of her went awry. Her heart thudded like crazy and her stomach churned constantly. She wanted to kick herself because she had been presenting such a snotty front. It seemed as if she had to fight her new feelings about Ron, and to do that she was putting on her know-it-all face. All she really wanted to do was be a normal girl, smile and giggle and get closer to Ron than she ever had before. However, she was Hermione Granger. She couldn't do this.

And it was Ron Weasley.

She snapped herself back into attention and reprimanded herself for being so careless with her thoughts. She had to organize herself once again before Christmas break.

Suddenly, it was as if she was hit with a ton of bricks.

CHRISTMAS!

After being dismissed from class, Hermione hightailed it to the owlery. She had a note to write home about Christmas that year. Her parents wanted to go away for Christmas break but Hermione had had the sudden strong desire to stay at Hogwarts. She was sure she knew why but tried to coax herself out of the thought before it had time to assume form.

Grabbing the note she had written out of her bag, she tied it to the leg of a large, distinguished-looking owl and watched as he flew off with the note. She didn't wait to watch it disappear before she did the same thing, scurrying off to her Care of Magical Creatures class.

All the way down, she promised herself she was going to be civil. She was going to be kinder to Ron; it was the least that he deserved. How long would he be able to stand her rudeness before giving up completely? Not that he had been trying for anything before.

Seeing the two culprits standing outside of Hagrid's hut, Hermione rapidly walked over to join them. Much to her dismay (and secret delight), Harry had gone inside the house with Hagrid to talk to him for a couple of minutes. It didn't surprise Hermione at all. The three of them did this with Hagrid often.

Ron looked uncomfortable all by himself. They usually had Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins, which meant that Draco Malfoy was lingering about somewhere, in his usual nasty state of being. Ron would have rather danced with an ancromantula spider than to be anywhere near Malfoy.

Approaching the spot where Harry had been standing, Hermione sighed deeply and set her books down.

Ron looked at her, afraid of what to say. They stood in a tense silence for a couple of minutes, stealing the occasional glance. The noisy chatter going on around them was barely heard, because lost in a trance, Ron and Hermione were fighting too many feelings within to notice anything but each other.

Finally, catching each other's gaze for once, Ron looked into Hermione's big brown eyes, opening his mouth to speak. "Listen, Hermione—"

"—Ron, I—"

There was silence again and they both looked away from each other. Glancing slowly back upward, Ron stepped closer to Hermione. Much to her frustration, her heart was pounding like crazy on the walls of her chest. She could feel his wonderful warmth on her skin as he stepped closer, opening his mouth and gazing adoringly into her eyes.

"Hermione… I'm sorry about… everything…" he said.

It pleased Hermione to know that Ron was a decent enough person to take the initiative and say he was sorry first. It was what made him that much more special to her.

"It's all right, Ron, I'm sorry as well," she said quietly, staring up into his vast blue eyes. _My word, how handsome he's become_, she thought to herself.

Hermione's blossoming beauty had not gone unnoticed by Ron, either. He had seen the way she had gone from a girlish eleven-year-old to a stunning sixteen-year-old woman.

"I'm glad that's settled," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth as Harry and Hagrid reappeared out of Hagrid's hut.

"I am too," she sighed happily, smiling at Ron.

Ron smiled back. "What do you say you blow off some studying tonight and just hang out with Harry and me in the common room?" he suddenly burst out.

Hermione was taken aback. "Oh Ron… I don't know, I've got a lot of work for Arithmancy…" she began.

Ron was not convinced. Harry approached them, smiling, but unnoticed.

"Oh come on, Hermione! Have a bit of a fun side! You'll have plenty of time to study and be boring during Christmas break at home."

Hermione bit her lip. Did she tell them she was staying? She opened her mouth to begin but was cut off immediately by Harry.

"_What _is going on here?" he asked. Ron and Hermione jumped back. "Two hours ago you two wanted nothing to do with the other! Now you're making plans for tonight? What did I miss?"

Ron and Hermione stole glances and then looked back at a thoroughly frustrated Harry. They only laughed as Hagrid began class, talking about the bowtruckle. Ron placed his hand on top of Hermione's, causing both of them to feel tingles up and down their spines.

"Let it go for one night… for me?"

Hermione couldn't resist. She looked up into the shining blue eyes, and through a choked voice, said, "Sure."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After spending the night together in the common room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone to bed laughing like they never had before. It was a fun night for the three of them and they all agreed they had needed it. Even though Hermione had felt guilty going to bed without having accomplished any real work, she felt strangely fulfilled.

Ron threw himself onto his four-poster and folded his arms underneath his head, locked his ankles together, and smiled dreamily. He couldn't believe he had actually done it. With a few sweet words and a guilt trip, he had gotten the all-studying bookworm to break out of her shell and spend time with him for once. It had been something he'd been trying to accomplish for almost five years, and had tried even harder to do after realizing he wanted to spend more and more time with her.

His conscience had nagged him about apologizing to Hermione first. After hashing it out with himself, he had decided that to ensure his continuing friendship with Hermione, he would have to say something first. It was too much of a risk to lose her because of a pride issue.

His pride had always stopped him before, but no longer. Ever since he had entered his sixth year, his stubborn streak was slowly wasting away when it came to those bright eyes and that beautiful smile. It had never occurred to him that anyone would ever have that much of an affect on him.

Until he saw her after summer. It all seemed to make sense after that.

The next day at breakfast, Hermione and Ron both felt completely renewed and refreshed. They had remembered to bring gloves and scarves for Herbology, and were excitedly talking to Harry about what they would be doing outside in the cold.

"I think we're going to actually see a Fidelis today," Ron commented, casting a hurried glance at Hermione, whose jaw had dropped.

"You read the chapter?"

"I told you I would," he said with an air of nobility.

She stared at him for a few seconds and then turned back to her food. "I didn't actually think you would."

Ron shrugged, taking a large bite out of his biscuit. Through his half-full mouth, he said, "I figured that if we're going to be looking at it today, I might as well know what it is."

"When did you have time to do that? We didn't do anything last night," she said, a rose color rapidly rushing to her cheeks.

Ron smirked. "Divination, when else?"

Hermione groaned. "I cannot believe you're still taking that subject."

"It's a good two hours of catch up," Harry mentioned. "Pass the pumpkin juice," he instructed to a fellow sixth year, Seamus Finnigan.

"So the Fidelis today, ay?" Seamus asked. "I heard that it was going to be a dreadful boring class."

"Unless you're into that sort of thing," Hermione muttered, and only Ron could hear her. He too, turned pink as she did.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning at Seamus.

"You fell asleep, ay Potter?" he laughed. "The Fidelis is—"

He was cut off by a loud squawk. An owl had flown into the Great Hall, and Hermione instantly recognized it as the bird she had used the day before. Her parents were unusually good at replying.

"Bit early for mail," Ron said.

"My parents," she laughed, rolling her eyes. She opened the letter and read:

'_Hermione dear,_

_We're sorry that you don't want to come home for Christmas this year, but you have our permission to stay at school. We will send our gifts within a few days. Merry Christmas sweetheart!_

_With all the love in our hearts,_

_Mum and Dad_.'

"What's that?" Ron asked, peering nosily over her shoulder.

Hermione closed the letter quickly. "A letter from Mum and Dad."

"I know that," he said, giving her an odd look. "What does it say?"

"Do I _have _to tell you everything?"

Professor Sprout stepped up to the front of her 'classroom' and waited for the students to quiet down. She was looking most anxious to begin.

"All right, class," she said, clearing her throat. "In front of your tables are glass boxes, containing what we commonly refer to as the Fidelis plant. Now, can anyone tell me about this plant?"

Hermione's hand, as it had always done before, waved frantically in the air. "Miss Granger?"

"The Fidelis plant, commonly found in most northern regions of Europe, is quite rare. It only blossoms in the winter, but when the seed is planted, this flower lives forever. The petals are bright pink, to symbolize the meaning of the flower."

"Very good, take ten points for Gryffindor," Professor Sprout offered, turning out again to the students. "Now who can tell me the meaning of the flower?"

Again, Hermione's hand was in the air. "Miss Granger?"

"Fidelis means true-hearted, which is what the seed was planted for. History tells us that in ancient times, the Grison and Yurthen wizarding families were mortal enemies, but two of their offspring found love with each other. To express his love for Amelia Yurthen, Gus Grison cast a charm on a flower seed, planted it, and as it grew, it symbolized the love he would always hold for her. Thus meaning that whenever a Fidelis seed is planted, the planter is expressing his or her undying love for another person."

"Wonderful! Thank you for the history lesson as well, Miss Granger!" Professor Sprout cheered happily. "The Fidelis seed planting is a wonderful expression of love when it comes to this certain plant. It is considered to be the one thing that will signify your true love to that one person." Ron and Hermione's cheeks went pink again. "There is another way to signify this love, but can someone tell me why it is never expressed in this way?"

Hermione's hand shot up again, but in a complete once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, someone else's hand preceded her own.

Professor Sprout's eyes widened, as did everyone else's in the class. "Mr. Weasley?"

He swallowed a gulp and answered, his voice cracking, "The Fidelis is so rare, that even though its immense beauty shows itself all winter long, it is illegal to pick it to give to the person you—" he coughed "—love."

Harry's mouth was open, as well as Hermione's, but the look in her eyes said something different.

"Well done, Mr. Weasley! Twenty points for Gryffindor for your courage," she said, and Ron turned as red as his hair. "Now!" she clapped her hands, "I have been given permission by the Ministry of Magic to pick one or two of these to show you exactly how you would pick them. But you MUST remember, this charm is only legal for those of you who choose to go into Herbology and deal with Fidelis on a regular basis." She picked up her wand and walked outside of the room, and when she reemerged, the entire class gasped. The flower she had in the pot of glass was spectacular, its pink petals were glistening and it looked silky to the touch. The students were entranced.

"Mr. Longbottom!"

Neville started at the sound of his name.

"Can you tell me why the Fidelis is not held in a traditional orange pot?"

Neville looked around at the faces peering at him curiously. Professor Sprout had set down the flower and was staring at him as well. "B-B-Because it is uh… well… it's rare and… um… delicate to the touch while still attached to its stalk, actually."

"Splendid!" she cried, a smile appearing on her face. "The reason I am showing you this flower before Christmas is because not only will I cover it on the exams," she paused to let the groans die away, "but because they are still seedlings at the moment and are ready to blossom at any time. They will only be in full bloom until mid February, and as long as you all know what they look like, you'll know to stay away.

"Now please, open your boxes." The class did as they were told, and almost seconds after they had opened the boxes, the stalks inside them shot to their full length, just over two feet high. There was a pause as the petals burst open, and sounds of awe came from the students as the Fidelis' bloomed in front of their eyes.

"Wonderful isn't it?" Professor Sprout smiled at the delighted tone their faces took. "Yes, I quite enjoy watching them myself. I want one of you to demonstrate how to pick one. Mr. Weasley?"

Another hush went over the class. "Y-Yeah?"

"Do you know the charm for picking a Fidelis?"

"Y-Yeah," he repeated.

"Would you mind demonstrating?"

Gulping once again, he picked up his own wand, pointing it at the flower. "_Puniceus florere_," he chanted, and a short, pink jet of sparks hit the flower. In an instant, the flower fell into his hands. The class applauded.

"Well done!" she cried. "Alright, I want you to remember that charm, because it will be on the test. Now…"

But the professor's voice had completely drained out of Ron's ears. Everything had. The clattering of the books opening and the voices that went along with the students. It was all like an ocean. All Ron could do was look up and see Hermione's face peering at his.

It seemed as though she was singled out. It had been his moment, he had shone, and she was seeing him in a new, respecting light. He liked it.

The dismissal to their next class came too soon and as he left the class, Ron approached Professor Sprout, nervously twirling the flower in his hands.

"Um… Professor, what would… you like me to do…?" he asked, indicating the Fidelis.

"Oh!" she cried cheerfully, turning around. "I wanted to give you something actually." Ron stood in front of her, puzzled, but waiting patiently for her. Hermione and Harry were waiting outside the classroom for him.

"Ah!" she cried. "Here we are!" She handed him a small, golden heart that fit easily into the palm of his large hand.

"What's this?"

"Why else did you think I asked you to perform the charm, Mr. Weasley?" she asked, and Ron was at a loss for words. "I may be just an old witch who deals with herbs and plants, but I know my intuition is never wrong. You give this and that flower to that one special person who deserves it from you for Christmas."

"What are you talking about?" he asked quietly.

"You know," she said, and turned away from him as if it was his cue to leave.

Walking out of the classroom, dumbfounded, Ron approached Harry and Hermione in deep thought. "What is it?" Hermione asked him.

"N-Nothing," he said, shoving the heart into his pocket quickly.

"What was _that_?" Harry asked nosily.

"She let you keep the flower!" Hermione cried as if suddenly realizing he was still hanging onto it. "I can't believe it! She only lets one student a year keep it… that must mean…"

And with no further communication, Ron and Hermione turned pink for what seemed to Harry like the hundredth time that day. He looked around, frustrated.

"Is it just me or is everyone turning abnormal colors lately?" he fumed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was now the Friday before everyone left for Christmas break, and even though student apathy was at its height, classes remained as strict as they ever had. Ron, Harry, and Hermione had begun to talk excitedly about Christmas plans, but Hermione still hadn't mentioned that she would be staying. She couldn't pinpoint the reason why.

During Herbology, however, Harry sat staring at the two suspiciously just in case they turned any more colors. After learning about the flower, he still didn't understand why Ron and Hermione had acted so strangely about it.

Lunch came, and most of what was a usual study time for the students was actually a full out social hour. Seamus Finnigan was loudly talking about the candy he usually got from his parents to his friend Dean Thomas, who was countering that with the gags he could normally find under his tree from Zonko's shop in Hogsmeade.

Ron grunted and turned to his pumpkin juice. "I bet I'll get one of those sweaters again," he said sullenly.

"Me too," Harry said, and Ron felt better as he smirked at his friend.

"Well, it's the thought that counts," Hermione stated.

"What are you planning to do for Christmas, Hermione?" Ron asked her. "You haven't told us one bit."

She shrugged. "It hasn't been worked out yet." _Why am I lying?_

"It's just too bad you're not staying with us," Harry said, and Ron nudged him hard in the ribs. "OW! _What_?"

Hermione stared at Ron fiercely and Harry could feel the fight ensuing. "Yes, what _was _that for?"

Ron's eyes widened and then he shook his head so vigorously that his long ginger hair slapped him in the face. "Nothing, nothing. Why would it be anything?"

Hermione said nothing, but remained tight-lipped all through lunch. Ron knew he had to keep his mouth shut and his elbows to himself if he was going to maintain civil conversation with Hermione.

They said nothing to each other as they headed into Transfiguration.

"I will tell you this as I have always told you in the past," Professor McGonagall barked at them that cold Friday morning. "It may be your last day before Christmas break, but that does not mean I will allow you to become careless in your studies. We will be reviewing how to turn your animals into furniture, your pens into silverware, and your books into dishes so as we don't forget over break."

The whole class gave a collective groan but proceeded to pick up their wands agreeably. As Professor McGonagall reminded them of the incantations they would need to perform their transfiguring, the students did the opposite of what they were told to do, and became distracted.

"Harry," Ron whispered, pointing his wand at his book of Magical Drafts and Potions.

"What?" he whispered back.

"I think I've forgotten the words for the animal transfiguration," he said guiltily.

Hermione sighed. "_Really_," she whispered and wrote down sloppily in Ron's copy of Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7, '_Cella_.'

He wrote back to her and pushed his book to her so she could read it: 'Thanks.'

She only nodded, turning back to her large pile of books that had now become an attractive set of china dishes. Ron smirked jealously, but managed to turn two of his pens into halfway decent spoons. Harry was having a hard time turning his black plates back into his books.

After being dismissed from Transfiguration, the group headed for the Great Hall, with Hermione once again, remaining silent. Ron was puzzled.

"Hermione, is there something¾"

But before he could finish, Professor McGonagall had breezed past them with a list in her hands. Hermione had gone pale. Ron opened his mouth to speak but Hermione walked past him quickly with her head down. He looked at Harry and in turn Harry only shrugged his shoulders curiously.

They took their seats at the table, setting their books down and reaching for food immediately. McGonagall was now walking from the end of the table down, asking who was staying for break and who wasn't.

"You're still staying, right?" Harry asked Ron cautiously.

Ron laughed. "Of course! I don't lie," he said, casting a glance quickly at Hermione, who in turn blushed.

"Potter, Weasley, I assume you'll be staying for the holidays," she said, jotting their names down quickly.

They nodded, grabbing biscuits from the center of the table and putting them on their plates. McGonagall peered out the top of her glasses and stared at Hermione. "Miss Granger? Are you accompanying these gentlemen?"

The boys smirked at each other and Hermione nodded sullenly. "All right. Your parents sent an owl ahead to warn me you might change your mind."

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione questioningly as McGonagall moved on. She was looking down at her plate, picking at her food absentmindedly.

Ron frowned at her. "Why didn't you tell us you were staying with us?"

She shrugged. "I don't really know why I didn't say anything."

"You could have told us," Harry said quietly.

She nodded. "I know."

Ron was still frowning at her. "Why didn't you say anything? That was stupid of you!"

Hermione's eyes blazed as Harry nudged Ron hard in the ribs. "What! She could have told us!"

"Ron, cut it out! Everything was going fine for a minute there," Harry whispered.

"Well, I'm sorry," Hermione sharply put in. "But I just didn't get around to telling you. Did you really think I was trying to hide something? Honestly! We are sixteen years old, gentlemen. I think you have to give me more credit for being bigger than that."

The guys looked at each other and nodded but Ron still frowned at Hermione. "Well, you don't have to bite my head off about it!"

"RON!" Harry yelled exasperatedly.

"WELL!"

"WHAT?"

There was silence at the Gryffindor table as all the heads turned to look at Ron and Hermione. The two were on their feet now, leaning over the table, glaring into each other's eyes. Harry sat below Ron, shaking his head, completely mortified.

"YOU'RE BEING SO RUDE LATELY!" Ron shouted, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "What am I supposed to think?"

"You're not supposed to think ANYTHING!" she yelled back. "Why is it SO important to you to know? WHY do you care so much about me being so RUDE? It's ALWAYS been this way, Ron," and with an extra crack in her voice, she said, "it will ALWAYS be that way."

All he could do was stare as the young woman he had known as so stable and so carefree fall apart. Her words may have said one thing but her face completely contradicted that.

"What is going on here?" Professor McGonagall was storming back into the Hall, still clutching the sheet and obviously very perturbed. "Weasley, Granger? Explanations!"

They looked down at the table and stuttered quickly. "_Well_?" she spat angrily. "Please! I'd like to know why you're standing here shouting at each other and disturbing the other students. There must be some valid explanation and I want to hear it!"

Neither of them spoke. "If I don't get an explanation right now I'm deducting five points from Gryffindor."

Harry jumped up automatically. "Professor, they were just having an argument and it got to be a little too heated, you see…"

"Potter, you weren't involved. Sit down and be quiet." Harry did as he was told.

Hermione cleared her throat and said in a squeaky voice. "I'm sorry, Professor, we _were _arguing and didn't realize how loud we were until you said something. We shouldn't have been yelling at each other."

This seemed to satisfy McGonagall. She stared at them intently for a few minutes and then said, "Very well. Don't let it happen again."

Watching her storm off, Hermione felt hot tears stinging at her eyes. _Oh no_, she thought to herself. _This can't be happening. Why am I suddenly feeling the urge to cry?_

Packing up her stuff quickly, Hermione bolted from the Great Hall, her head down and her books pressed tightly up against her chest. Ron watched her leave, still not sitting down. He looked at Harry curiously. He in turn jerked his head toward the door.

Ron ran out of the Great Hall as the entire Gryffindor table turned to watch him. As soon as he was out of earshot, the chatter arose so loudly that Professor McGonagall had to come back in.

Certain of where she was headed, Ron started for the direction of the library and sure enough, as soon as he entered he saw a wisp of brown hair fly behind a shelf of books. Ignoring a nasty look from Madam Pince for running in the library, he hurried after Hermione.

He rounded the corner and stopped before going to talk to her. He was sure he heard her crying. Sobs, sniffles, and short sighs came from behind the books, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to go talk to her while she was crying.

He had to get out of there. If she was crying because of him, he wouldn't be able to look her in the face. The amount of guilt that would consume him would be enormous.

"Oh geez!" came a voice from behind Ron. He spun around to see Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff sixth year directly behind him. "Watch where you're going, Ron, you almost knocked me over!"

As Justin said Ron's name, he could hear a small gasp behind him. His spirits deflated. The sound of a chair slamming into a table could be heard and the next thing he knew, Ron had been yanked aside.

"_What_ do you think you're playing at?" Hermione yelled angrily.

"What… I… er… well…"

"Don't you ever sneak up on me again! Do you hear me? EVER!" She was almost in tears she was so angry, and it didn't surprise Ron at all. She had been crying only seconds before.

"Hermione, Hermione!" he said calmly to her.

She was waving her hands frantically, exploding about the rights of privacy she should have had and that after storming out of the Hall he should have gotten the point. Ron, almost in tears of his own, caught her hands. "Hermione," he said once again, this time with a desperate ring to his voice.

She stopped and stared at him. "Ron."

They held hand for what seemed like ages. In some way there was a peace radiating from the two of them after they had touched tenderly for the first time.

"I heard you crying," he whispered.

She tried to back away quickly, but Ron held desperately to her hands. "I don't know what to think anymore, Hermione."

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking away from him.

"I… just… I…"

Hermione sighed, wanting to pull away, but again Ron clung to her. In his own mind, it seemed like a demented idea, but he was sure that if they kept a strong hold to each other, they wouldn't fight.

Her cheeks were still stained with tears. "Why do you provoke me? I've cried too many times to care anymore."

His eyes flashed pain and he said quietly, "I can't help it."

"Why not?" she asked briskly, not missing a beat. "Why can't you watch what you say, or be nicer about the way you choose to speak to me? You're not like that with Lavender or Parvati! Only me! What's so wrong with me? Why can't you just speak to me like a civilized person?"

She was becoming frantic again, and Ron started to panic, holding onto her with all of his might.

"Ron, let me go!" she demanded.

"No! Not until you talk to me! Tell me why you're crying, please, I want to know!" he yelled at her.

"You really want to know? You _really_ want to know!" she yelled.

"Yes!"

"YOU!"

The library became silent and they could hear Madam Pince storm toward them, whispering acidly, "Will you two please be quiet back here?"

They nodded solemnly as Madam Pince turned away in a huff.

After she had left, Ron asked, "What are you talking about? _Me_?"

"Yes, you. Did it ever occur to you how much we fight? Did it ever seem strange that we only fight like this with each other?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "That's how it's always been."

Hermione groaned inwardly. "Well, it can't be that way anymore. I'm getting sick of it."

Ron didn't know how to react to that comment. "I don't know how to just stop it…"

Hermione pulled away again, this time successfully. Ron was so shaken that he had a hard time grasping for support. Standing almost three feet away from him, Hermione looked as though she were on the verge of a total emotional breakdown. She stared at him pitifully and it was obvious all over her face that she wanted to be close to him again, but couldn't.

"Then I can't handle this anymore."

Hermione turned and fled the library before Ron had a chance to respond. The entire place was once again silent as the fight slid to a halt. Ron felt immobilized. He couldn't make his legs run to catch up with her. All he could do was let the words sink in.

_I can't handle this anymore._

Echoing in his ears as he stood there, staring at the place where she had just stood, thoughts ran through his head. He found his hand reaching into his pocket, and the treasure he found there confused him.

It was the golden heart that Professor Sprout had given him. He had taken the Fidelis up to his dorm and hid it from view of anyone else. He had forgotten about the heart.

Pieces started to click into place, but there were still some missing. He was determined to sort it out and place it before his time with Hermione ran out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sulking in her dormitory for the remainder of the previous night, Hermione had decided that it wasn't worth her trouble to think about how selfish Ron was being. If he was going to completely disregard the fact that he was constantly mean to her and that they always fought, wasn't worth the trouble trying to make him see.

Brushing away the tears that so often came to her eyes lately, she started on her homework and fell asleep with the quill pen in her hand and her head on her Arithmancy book. She'd woken up the next morning, so frazzled and confused that she had looked at the clock, thinking it was a school day. She bustled around, dressing and gathering her books only to find that when she zoomed down the passage and through the common room, Harry and Ron were sitting comfortably in front of the fire.

Sulking in her dormitory for the remainder of the previous night, Hermione had decided that it wasn't worth her trouble to think about how selfish Ron was being. If he was going to completely disregard the fact that he was constantly mean to her and that they always fought, wasn't worth the trouble trying to make him see.

Brushing away the tears that so often came to her eyes lately, she started on her homework and fell asleep with the quill pen in her hand and her head on her Arithmancy book. She'd woken up the next morning, so frazzled and confused that she had looked at the clock, thinking it was a school day. She bustled around, dressing and gathering her books only to find that when she zoomed down the passage and through the common room, Harry and Ron were sitting comfortably in front of the fire.

"What are you doing?" Harry called as she went to step out the portrait hole.

She turned around and stared at the two of them. Harry was frowning and looking at her as if trying to figure out what she was up to. Ron stared at Hermione, a guilty expression on his face. There could have only been one reason she was so disoriented.

"O-Oh," she said, her shoulders slumping. "It's Saturday isn't it?"

"Yes, Hermione, everyone's gone," he told her calmly, as if talking to a small child.

Hermione gathered her books and walked silently out of the common room to her dorm to put her things away and found that once she got up there, she couldn't. She collapsed onto her bed in a fit of rage. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. It was as if she was becoming more and more emotionally unstable each day. Maybe it was the pressures of being prefect and top of her class in Gryffindor. Maybe it was being a sixteen-year-old female. Maybe it was stress.

Even though most of those made sense, Hermione knew she was skirting the real issue. She knew exactly what was going on.

New emotions had been swirling inside of her since the end of her fifth year at Hogwarts. It had all happened when she thought she was in love with Harry… What a mistake in judgment that had been.

Of course, there had been the element of physical attraction. It hadn't gone unnoticed to her that Harry was becoming a rather handsome boy. What with the sparkling green eyes, shaggy jet hair, and the wide toothed grin he carried around so often, what girl wouldn't have swooned? It had surprised Hermione that she found herself staring at his profile during class sometimes and listening intently whenever he had a word to say.

Luckily enough, she hadn't mustered the courage to tell him her feelings about him. It seemed quite odd however, that even though she found him physically appealing in every way, his idiosyncrasies were still as plainly evident to her as they ever were before.

She contained any sign of feeling toward Harry, and was glad to have done so. She barely even noticed that during her brief crush on Harry, she had begun to talk to Ron more and more, getting to know him better than she had ever really known him before.

There were instances in which she stayed in the common room, in front of the fire, thinking hard about her new feelings. Then when Ron would sit next to her and ask her what was wrong; she didn't notice he was really peering into her true soul. She had sat once with Ron for three hours just talking. Her mind was preoccupied, but her heart said something different.

And it clicked suddenly after she left Hogwarts. Not seeing Harry and Ron day after day, she started to make the connection. She had never truly harbored feelings for Harry because if she had, it wouldn't have been so easy to forget the thrill she got every time he smiled at her. What was a lot harder to forget was the way Ron made her feel after sitting with her for three hours on the couch, talking to her so softly and sweetly.

Seeing Harry at Diagon Alley that first week back was nothing. He had grown some and was now more attractive; that much she could say was true. What she hadn't noticed however, was how unbelievably charismatic Ron had become. A few inches taller than before, tanner with more freckles, shaggier red hair, and even more sparkly crystal blue eyes was all that clouded Hermione's vision that fateful day at Diagon Alley. She tried her hardest to keep it hidden, but all her mind crept to was Ron. The feelings inside of her stirred as they never had before, and he too was as equally attentive to her as she was to him as they shopped that day.

These new feelings for Ron didn't go away as she had hoped. She was sure it was another simple Harry crush, physical attraction and nothing more. However, every time she had a meaningful conversation with Ron, her heart pounded heavily like nothing she had ever known.

Yet admitting to those feelings would just upset her further.

So instead of going downstairs and joining the boys in the common room, she stayed on her bed, staring at the ceiling in a deep trance of thought. She didn't realize how long she had been staring up until she heard a rap on the door. It was Harry.

"Uh, Hermione? Are you all right in there?"

Hermione jerked up with a start. "Uh… yeah…" she croaked, wiping her watering eyes and clambering out of her bed.

"Are you going to come down? We saved you some food for breakfast."

Walking toward the door, she managed to fix her appearance and salvage whatever dignity she could. She opened the door and met Harry face to face. _Yep, those feelings are gone._

He gave her a small smile and asked, "Are you coming?"

She nodded and walked down quietly in front of him, and as they emerged from the stairwell, Ron looked up quickly. He said nothing.

Hermione sat down in the chair next to the couch, farthest from the side Ron was sitting on. He stared at her expectantly as if he wanted to say something. She noticed this, but said nothing. Harry took a seat on the couch and clapped his hands together loudly.

"WELL!" he yelled, causing the silent pair to jump from surprise. "I'm not going to sit here in silence for the next few hours! Who wants a game of chess?"

Normally Ron found that he would have jumped at the chance to slaughter Harry in a game of chess but he only shook his head. "I don't much feel like it." Hermione shook her head as well.

Harry looked dejectedly at the fire. He stood up and opened his mouth, but before he could say much more, the portrait hole burst open and Ginny entered. Harry's head snapped up and a smile finally lit his face.

"Ginny!" he jumped from his seat on the couch and ran at her so fast that she backed up so as he wouldn't fall into her. He took her arm and briskly whisked her aside. "You have to get me out of here! There's so much tension in here I feel like I'm going to suffocate."

Ginny peered over Harry's shoulder and saw Hermione squirming uneasily in her chair as Ron cast curious glances at her. Ginny smirked and then looked at Harry.

"Yeah, well, those Quidditch plans aren't necessarily all drawn up right yet. If we're going to beat Ravenclaw in January we've got to get this all worked out," she said loudly, taking Harry by the arm and leading him back out of the portrait hole.

Ron and Hermione sat in silence for a while longer after the two had left.

Not saying anything, Ron allowed his fingers to slowly venture into his pocket, where the golden heart he had received in Herbology two days ago still lingered. Why had Professor Sprout given him this? Why had she allowed him to keep a plant that was, by all means, illegal to own?

She had said that her intuition 'knew' and that he should give it to that 'one special person' for Christmas. Did she mean who he thought she meant? It really couldn't be. It astounded him in every way to feel that tiny golden heart. It somehow gave him the strength and courage to sit in the same room with Hermione. Almost like a warm butterbeer, it filled him with a strange pouring of bravery that he didn't think he could muster before.

He still had trouble deciding what it meant.

"Hermione."

The sound was a shock to them both. Hermione had been staring into the fire, lost in her own thoughts. She then absentmindedly said out loud, "I have so much work."

Not saying anything else, her gaze turned back to the fire.

Ron lost his nerve somehow, but after sticking his hand into his pocket and fingering the golden heart, he opened his mouth again. "Hermione."

She again turned away from the fire and said, as if a thought had decided to escape her lips, "Two paged essay for Potions."

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other night…" he began, keeping his fingers firmly locked around the heart.

"Four rolls of parchment for History of Magic," she recited as if she was an emotionless tape recorder.

"I don't know what's come over me lately…"

"Forty equations for Arithmancy…"

"It seems like whenever we fight, I just can't help but say what I say…"

"So much work…"

"And, Hermione, I want to stop it so badly, I don't want to fight with you anymore…"

Hermione had quieted now, allowing her eyes to travel back to the fire.

"Please listen to me," he whispered, a sort of desperation suddenly coming to his voice. She looked up. It broke his heart to see her that way. She looked almost as if she was lost and didn't know where she was anymore. He knew it was his fault.

"I don't want to fight with you anymore, and I don't mean to egg you on when it comes to everything," he said quietly, rubbing the heart. "I just get so provoked sometimes… and it just kind of happens… I don't know what comes over me. I don't want to fight with you and I don't want to be on bad terms with you anymore. I want us to be friends." _Oh geez, the biggest lie I ever did tell…_

Hermione said nothing. She rubbed her elbows and leaned over to put her face close to the fire. Ron waited on the edge of his seat for an answer, a reply, any kind of remark out of Hermione at all.

"I don't want to fight with you," she whispered hoarsely, but with a definite tone of certainty. She sounded as if she had gone it over many times in her head and was now sure she wanted to say it. "No," she said again with finality. "I don't want to fight with you. I try to stay away from situations where I know it will come up but like you, sometimes I just can't help myself when it happens." And surprising both herself and Ron, Hermione stood up and walked over to the couch, sitting down next to Ron… so close he could hear her heart thud against her chest.

"I want us to be on good terms as well," she said softly.

The intense look he could feel in her eyes at that moment was tremendous, like nothing he had ever felt before.

"I didn't mean to snap at you about not telling us you were staying," he said, his whole body trembling from the heat of her body so close to his. "I-I was just kind of angry… I guess."

"Why?" she asked, her tone gentle.

The gentle tone that was supposed to soothe him did the exact opposite. "I-I wasn't angry with you… well completely you… I mean, I've been angry with myself for days now, and you see, I was really kind of hoping that you'd decide to stay here, but I wasn't going to say anything. I was kind of hurt that you didn't tell us until then, because Harry and I made these fun plans and everything for each other and then you were staying, so I was frustrated."

Hermione was listening intently, not saying anything. This was quite a restriction for her; normally Hermione blew up over comments like that.

"And… all I can really say is… is that I'm…" he grabbed the heart again and felt a calm sweep over him. He closed his eyes and centered himself.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat when his eyelids fluttered open. She was close enough to his body now that she could see right into the pure depths of his eyes. They were the most crystalline of all blue. They sparkled with what appeared to be a white light, and he had all the assurance he would ever need in the world right there. He seemed to be so confident at that point that Hermione's heart flip-flopped and it was almost right then that she knew… she knew for sure.

"I'm glad you stayed."

Hermione didn't know what came over her. She stared Ron in the face, surveyed every single portion of it, and made mental note of every bit. Up to his fiery red hair, down to his adorable nose, to his succulent pink lips that almost always curved up into the cutest crooked smile, and all around to the brown freckles that dotted his face like paint droplets. So many, so tiny, it gave his face so much character. And, without warning, she leapt, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Ron was taken back for a second, but then managed to regain composure. Since his third year, he had figured out how to deal with a hug from Hermione. She buried her face in his shoulder and clung to him tightly.

He then closed his eyes blissfully, allowed his head to relax onto Hermione's shoulder, and wrapped his long arms around her petite frame, closing her in protectively against him.

They were so close they could each feel the other breathing. Inhale and exhale. In and out. They were in perfect rhythm for a few minutes, and barely had recognized that they drifted off into a deeper form of relaxation.

Harry walked into the common room to find a surprising sight… Hermione and Ron… asleep… in each other's arms.

Widening his eyes, he dashed out of the common room, screaming, "GINNY!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Waking up three hours later, Ron found to his surprise that he was alone on the couch. He saw that the common room was indeed empty, as the fire continued to crackle in front of him. He wiped his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly and allowed his eyes to dart around, looking for any sign of life. Specifically, Hermione.

He walked out of the common room after waking himself up for a few minutes, and then wandered into a corridor where he knew he'd find at least Harry.

Sure enough, Harry was sitting with Ron's sister in the library with a large white poster board. They were obviously discussing Quidditch tactics.

Ron yawned and stretched, approaching the two. "Hey, you," he said.

Harry looked up, startled. His green eyes twinkled curiously behind his large glasses. "Hey, yourself."

Ginny sat back and crossed her arms. "I still don't get it."

Harry looked at her and then picked up his red marker, clambering toward the board. "What? Do you not understand where you're supposed to be on the pitch?"

"No," Ginny sighed, looking up at Ron. "I still don't get why you and Hermione were asleep together on that couch."

Ron's eyes widened as he stared at his sister. "_What_?"

Harry rolled his eyes and as he leaned over the poster to examine it, he commented, "You were fighting and uncomfortable one second, and then you were on top of each other the next."

"What? We weren't on top of each other… you're making it sound dirty…"

Harry put down his marker. "You're probably right," he admitted. "Of course I walked in while you were asleep, but it just looked kind of odd to me. I left mostly because you weren't speaking and it was making me nervous… then… you were so comfortable. It was odd."

Ron sighed loudly. Ginny spoke up quickly.

"Harry, you've seen them lately. They fight, they make up, they fight, they make up. It could have been in that two minutes that you were gone that they talked things out and…"

"See? You don't even believe yourself," Harry said.

"What is your problem, Harry?" a voice came from behind Ron.

He spun around to see Hermione. She was looking detached and cold, as if she had walked in on a stranger's conversation. Ron smiled at her and she only cast a sharp glance at him. He frowned. _Now_ he was really confused.

Harry looked up, dropping his marker. "Hermione… what…?"

Hermione's lips were thin and drawn. This was a complete change from the warm girl who had hugged him and lay close to him three hours before.

"Does it bother you that Ron and I fell asleep together on the common room couch?" she asked, her voice so icy that it seemed if Harry gave the wrong response, he was in for it.

"Well, no," Harry said, avoiding her piercing brown-eyed gaze. "But it bothers me that you're constantly bickering…"

"Yes?" she asked, knowing he had left something behind.

Harry looked at Ginny for support, who in turn, shook her head. She wanted no part of the conversation.

"You guys are always fighting, but then two seconds later, you're okay… Then a day later it happens all over again, and it upsets me," he said, readjusting his glasses nervously.

"Why?" Hermione's tone was beginning to soften somehow, as if she were a teacher speaking to a student.

There was a tense silence while Harry stood nervously ten feet away from Hermione, nervously twirling the marker he was holding. He kept glancing toward Ginny, sitting on the floor in front of the poster board, her knees pulled into her chest. Ron stood close to Hermione unintentionally, nervously tugging on the end of his sweater. He was staring from Hermione's face to the floor. Hermione stood in front of them, her hands clasped gently in front of her, her stance ready and able.

"Well?"

Another tense moment of silence filled the air and was finally broken by none other than Ginny Weasley. She jumped up on her feet and stared straight into Hermione's face.

"It upsets everyone, Hermione! Wake up!"

Hermione's eyes widened as did Ron's. He had never seen Ginny so aggressive.

"It upsets me, Harry, and even Ron. Don't you get it?"

Hermione frowned. "No."

Ginny sighed disgustedly. "Then I'm not going to waste my time spelling it out for you," she then stalked past Hermione angrily. The three remaining looked at each other, and gathering up the poster board and markers, Harry ran off after her calling her name.

Hermione and Ron were left standing together, staring intensely at one another. Ron couldn't believe that she could go from hot to cold as easily as a faucet could. He had tried so hard to figure her out, but he somehow couldn't get into her brain as easily as he had thought.

She was so stubborn with him. One minute she would show him her emotions, her thoughts and feelings for him, and the next she would be cold and distant as if it had never happened. She fascinated him quite deeply, and even though she was constantly changing direction on him, her mind and heart was still worth fighting for.

But how long could he handle it?

For the remainder of the day, Hermione was unusually cold and elusive whenever she came near him. He spent most of his time with Harry and Ginny in the common room, working out plans for the upcoming Quidditch game against Ravenclaw. Hermione spent most of her day in the library.

They did not speak the rest of the day.

Ron woke up the next morning to an unusually large array of thoughts swimming in his head. He had had a disturbing dream, in which he was running toward Hermione, but the harder and faster he ran, the farther away she got. He was reaching out to her, calling her name, screaming things he himself couldn't understand, and her image turned dark suddenly.

He clutched his pillow, keeping his eyes closed as he lay in bed. So much confusion, for no reason, all of a sudden. It was beginning to be too much. He thought that at any moment he might burst.

He was going to set this straight with Hermione. He didn't understand his sudden feelings for her, but he knew that he hated being treated the way she treated him so often. She had made Ron feel inferior the entire six years they had known each other. He always felt shadowed by her, like he was never good enough.

Of course, Ron never admitted anything of the kind to anyone close to him, but he had noticed Hermione truly from the beginning. Even though she had seemed like a bossy know-it-all the first time they met, he was still intrigued. He always had to know more and see more, no matter how angry Hermione made him.

There was, however, a line. It was a very thin line when it came to her, but it was a line nonetheless. She was starting to cross it, and Ron desperately didn't want her to.

He opened his eyes wearily and stared ahead of him at the golden heart on his nightstand. It had remained faithfully in his pocket all day, giving him the strength to go on without screaming at Hermione. He didn't know how far that would take him that day.

He got up and then looked suddenly down at the Fidelis, which he had kept safely tucked away between his nightstand and the bed. It was still in perfect shape, full bloom, budding pink, and still appeared to be soft to the touch.

_What in the world did Professor Sprout want me to do with this thing?_ He thought madly to himself. _What could I possibly do with a Fidelis plant in my possession?_

The idea of having the golden heart with him was a constant comfort, but even after staring at the Fidelis every single night, he was still at a loss. He knew how rare this flower was, so it wasn't like he could just toss it out. He also couldn't give it to someone. That would mean something.

So he continued to ponder.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and he instantly knew it was Harry. Pulling himself out of bed, he quickly grabbed the heart and got up to start changing. The door opened.

"Hey, I'm up, let me just change really quick."

No answer came, but Ron didn't seem to notice. He turned toward the bed, unbuttoning his pajamas quickly, thrusting the shirt onto the bed. "So, what have you and Ginny been doing all morning?"

Again, there was no answer and finally Ron turned around to say something. "Listen…"

He stopped when he saw that it was not Harry standing there, but Hermione. He suddenly saw red.

"What are you doing in here? Especially while I'm changing!" he screamed at her.

She opened her mouth to speak, "I, well, I was just wondering…"

"CAN IT WAIT?"

"YES!" she said, suddenly narrowing her eyes at him. "I was worried that you might be sick, sleeping until noon! I came to check on you!"

She turned on her heel to leave and Ron's sympathy got the best of him. "Wait! Hermione!"

Hermione didn't stop. "If you don't want me in here, I'll wait in the common room," she said as she opened the door and escaped down the stairs.

Ron grunted. "Bloody hell," he grunted to himself, forgetting what he was doing and going to chase after her.

She had made her way to the common room and was now sitting on the couch. She knew all too well that Ron would follow her down, but in truth she didn't really want him too.

She had struggled deeply all the day before through the night with the fact that she was now harboring deep feelings for Ron. It didn't seem plausible. She had been so angry with him only hours before and then suddenly she was in his arms. It was ludicrous! None of it made sense.

However, she was pretty sure that the reason she was so scared by it was because of how comfortable it felt to be in Ron's arms.

_No, no, no! Shake him from your head! You do not have feelings for Ron; Ron is your good friend. Ron is NOTHING more than a good friend._

"HERMIONE!" Ron bellowed from the stairs. He emerged, still wearing only pajama pants and an angry expression. Hermione didn't miss the fact that he had somehow forgotten to put on his shirt.

"What?" she asked.

"Don't turn this around on me! It's not fair!"

"What are you talking about?"

He stood in front of her, running his fingers tensely through his hair. "First there's this tension, the next thing I know, we're telling each other 'let's never fight again' and you throw your arms around me—"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "DON'T MAKE ME SOUND LIKE A HARLOT!"

Ron stopped in mid sentence. "Why would I do that?"

"THROW MY ARMS AROUND YOU?" Hermione stood up, fists clenched, staring Ron in the face.

"That's what you did!"

"You're making me sound disgusting!"

"No I am not! That's what you did!"

Hermione turned away from him, crossing her arms and sticking her chin out. "I may have."

"You did."

Hermione turned around to Ron again, her eyes blazing. "STUBBORN WEASLEY! I swear to you, one of these days, I won't be able to handle this any longer!"

"I won't be able to handle your indecisiveness any longer either."

"_Indecisiveness_?"

"One minute, you're hugging me and laying with me on that couch, the next, you're as cold and distant as if we had met on the street! What's with you, Hermione? Do you do this out of pleasure or do you want to deny that you have any feeling for me whatsoever?"

Hermione's brown eyes were suddenly misting over with tears. She couldn't see Ron's face any longer. He wanted to know blatantly: _Do you have feelings for me? _How could she tell him that she did have them? How could she tell him that she had had them ever since she first saw him on that train first year? That the dirt on his nose wasn't the only thing she noticed about the adorable freckled face that day. That the only thing she'd ever wanted to do was teach him and guide him, hoping that he became better than what he thought himself to be. She wanted to tell him that she thought he might have come from a family of seven, but without a doubt, he was the most special Weasley in that entire household.

Ron noticed Hermione's eyes flood with tears and he knew he was responsible. Guilt washed over him, but he didn't want to stop now. They may have been fighting once again, but at least this time it was somewhat productive.

"No, I don't want to deny it," she said, swallowing a huge lump in her throat. "But I don't want to admit it either."

Ron ran his hands through his messy red hair and sighed heavily. "I don't know where to go from here, Hermione. I can't sit back, pretending that I'm okay with us fighting every two seconds. I don't want to wait around all my life for you."

Hermione's tears spilled over onto her cheeks. Ron's heart gave a lurch. He wanted more than anything to dry those tears. "I'm sorry, Ron, but I can't give you what you want right now. I have a lot on my mind."

"I understand that."

"Then open your eyes! I've been dealing with so much lately that I'm beginning to think I can't take much more. I don't know what to do half the time when I get like this, I feel like there's absolutely no one to talk to anymore. I don't know why I feel that way because I have all the friends in the world! I don't want to burden Harry with my problems, and Ginny's busy because of O.W.L.s, and you… you, Ron, you're different."

"Why?"

"Most of my problems are about _you_," she confessed finally.

Ron's eyes traveled to his feet. There were still so many questions. "Why were you so distant yesterday?"

Hermione sighed, sitting back down. Ron followed suit. "I woke up and realized what had happened. I had let some of my emotion and feeling seep out. I keep feeling like I'm losing my touch, my Hermione touch, as crazy as that sounds. I don't want to admit any feeling. I don't want to own up to anyone, or anything. But there are feelings inside of me Ron, feelings I can't just ignore anymore."

Ron sighed. "I know what you mean."

"These feelings… it's either look them in the face or turn away from them completely. There's no in between. That's what I'm struggling with now."

"Me too."

"I don't want to lose anything in my life that's important to me."

Ron frowned. "I don't follow…"

Hermione's eyes flooded with tears once more. Ron's hand quivered but he managed to keep it in his lap.

"If I follow through on this feeling Ron, and I get what I most desire… what happens if I lose it?"

Hermione had made a very valid point. "I hate fighting with you."

"It's like we can't stop it."

Hermione sighed, standing up and making her way to the portrait hole. She was stopped by a final, "Hermione!"

She stopped, placing her hand on the door and bowing her head toward the ground. She didn't look up.

"If you're so scared about this feeling… why did you come up to my dorm?"

Hermione's eyes once more dripped out several salty tears, and without answering, she clambered out of the common room.

Ron was left with nothing but a dry mouth, a sore throat, and a throbbing head of thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Why did I go into that dorm? What did I expect? That he'd be asleep and then so willingly whisk me into his arms like some princess? No, not Hermione Granger. I can't believe you're being so stupid!_

Hermione stalked toward the library after her encounter with Ron. She was angrily brushing the tears away from her face. She couldn't cry! She was Hermione… she was…

But that was exactly it. She was Hermione, and she had deep feelings that went far past friendship for her best friend, Ron. What was coming over her?

She hurriedly went to a shelf, pulled random books down, and hauled them all to a table. She didn't care what she had grabbed, as long as she kept her mind off of Ron. However, when she sat down, she realized that she had read every single book she had grabbed.

Staring at the eight or nine books in front of her, Hermione realized that she had finally reached a dead end. She had done all the reading, writing, homework, essays, projects, and reports that a true happiness used to get for her. She was suddenly not satisfied with her work, and it scared her.

She felt her head droop down onto the table as she cried.

It seemed like she had gone through so much as she let her emotions fall out of her eyes in the form of salty tears. Why did it have to be so hard suddenly at sixteen? Nothing had been this hard when she was a simple girl of eleven. Of course, she had hated Ron with such a passion then that all that seemed to matter then was books and homework. After befriending Harry, she soon learned that that was not so.

After third year had gone by, she felt different things, things she had never felt before. She was sure that friendship was more important to her than any report ever would be, but this was not friendship. It was something different.

Common sense, which Hermione prided herself on having, told anyone that if three people of mixed gender were great friends for a period of time, there would be some kind of attraction within the group. For Hermione, it had happened first with Harry, and she was positive after summer break that it had been nothing more than a physical attraction of sorts.

After talking to Ron for so long, she really started to feel something more for him. Through the endearing red hair, adorable freckles, and shining blue eyes, there was so much more for her to ponder and discover. She wanted to know everything there was to know about Ron Weasley. She wanted to be everything to him sometimes.

There was so much at risk if she went for what she really wanted. It was too much. She couldn't risk throwing in the towel, admitting her feelings for Ron, and then risk either losing him or getting hurt. It was almost a lose/lose situation in which she was sure to be at the dire end of the deal.

Setting her head on top of all the books sitting in front of her, she blinked tears out of her lashes and closed her eyes lazily. She suddenly realized that her lids felt heavy, as if the weight of all she had been feeling were on top of them. She soon fell into a deep sleep.

It seemed like it had been hours upon hours when she woke up twenty minutes later. She had obviously needed the relaxation that it brought her, because she felt almost renewed.

_Almost._

Pulling her head up, she fixed the stack of books that had fallen and then went to return them. She retrieved a few that she had not read (and it seemed as if there _were _only a few), set them down on the table, pulled out a piece of parchment, and began to write. She didn't care what she was writing, or what kind of notes she would be taking, but she wrote.

She opened up A Look at the Ancient Gods of Greece and flipped a few pages until she reached the first chapter, 'The Ruler of All Gods: Mighty Zeus.' As she started to read, she jotted down notes and brief facts that she would need to know about Zeus.

But then the question slapped her in the side of the face: When would she ever need to know about this?

Slamming the book shut, she pushed it away and faced the next book in front of her. The Chronology of Antique to Modern Wands.

_This may be useful for Charms_, she thought hopefully to herself.

After opening the book, she hurriedly scribbled the notes she had taken about Zeus out and began to write something about wands.

_'The most ancient of all wands was said to have been fashioned by the first wizard that ever lived. He was best at Transfiguration, and found that with the wand, he was more successful in his attempts than with his own wit to do it for him.'_

Scrawling all of this hurriedly, Hermione's hand burned and her knuckles turned white. She didn't seem to care, however. She had to do anything to get her mind off of Ron.

This thought only provoked her to write harder and faster.

_'Most wands in those days were longer than modern-day wands, which are the result of many improvements.'_

"Most wands…" she whispered to herself as she copied it down. Staring at the chicken scratch on the page, she suddenly didn't care what happened to her. She had her intelligence, and that would get her through everything. Books, papers, and writing would never be unfaithful to her. It would never cause deep stirrings of emotions, it would never confuse her, it would never fight with her and there was no possibility of it ever leaving her. Yes, her brain and intellect were her most useful weapons.

_'Wands were particularly useful for Charms, as most wizards discovered Simple spells such as levitation and unlocking doors were now easily performed with this handy invention. However, because of their flighty design and the lack of an important core for the wand, they were not ready for curses such as the Cruciatus Curse.'_

"Not ready…" she recited out loud, scribbling the words down.

_'And since unicorns were rather rare and dragons had not been discovered, tail hairs and heartstrings are pulled whenever Ron looks into my eyes. I can't believe it. I think I might be in love with my best friend. The look he gives me accompanied by that crooked smile is enough to make my knees weak. Not to mention the fact that he keeps fighting, he's fighting to keep me. He doesn't want us to fight; he doesn't want to lose me. He's so obviously a Gryffindor. He constantly finds the courage to battle me and then finds even more to come up to me and say he's sorry first. Is that normal? I wouldn't expect it from most men. Especially considering his unusually stubborn streak with me in particular. Am I in love with Ron Weasley?'_

Hermione's eyes widened when she looked at the book and then down at the paper. She had spent the last two or three minutes scratching all of that down, not even realizing.

Her eyes flooded with tears once again and she finally understood. She threw down her pen, shut the book, and tore up the parchment paper.

She returned the books to their proper shelves, gathered up her things, and left the library. It was time to sit in her dorm and think.

_Am I being silly, or should I just confess I'm in love right now?_

Ron sat on the stands in the Quidditch field, bundled up to the nine. It was freezing and Ginny and Harry were practicing some of the new moves he had made up for her. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. He couldn't very well spend time with Hermione. That was obvious.

His nose was completely red. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes. However he would rather have been watching his sister practicing with his best friend than face the icy stare Hermione could give him. That would blow the snow out of the competition. The snow physically froze him. The gaze Hermione could set on him would freeze his heart.

_STOP THINKING ABOUT HERMIONE!_

Wrapping up tightly in his robes, Ron forced himself to watch the action in front of him. Ginny had dropped the ball and Harry had swung down to get it. Now they were laughing, floating next to each other and talking quietly about what Ginny had done wrong. Ron stared at them, a wistful smile crept onto his face. They both looked so happy. It was obviously the fact that they were finally free and up in the air. Harry had always loved being on his broom and the moment Ginny had touched a broomstick, it became a second home for her as well.

"You have to take the ball down there, then swoop back down and come in for a fake, do you get it?" Harry asked, laughing all the while as he explained it.

"I think so," Ginny answered.

Ron bundled up tighter than before and stared ahead, not realizing what he was doing. His thoughts slowly drifted toward Hermione like they had easily done the past few months.

Things were becoming too complicated for him to even want to sort out anymore. One minute, they were biting each other's heads off and were pronounced mortal enemies. The next, they were staring at each other like they were the only people in the entire world that existed. It didn't make sense.

She wasn't only at fault, however. He was reacting strangely to the feelings inside him as well. What was he supposed to do? He had liked Hermione more than a friend for so long that it seemed almost odd for the feelings to plague him like a disease suddenly. Could it have been more than just a simple crush?

"Harry! Give me the Quaffle!"

"No! You have to do the Swooping Pattern I formed!"

"I can't do that out here Harry, it's bloody cold!"

"Then you're not getting your ball!"

"Harry, quit being a Wood!"

Ron laughed out loud at this expression that she and Harry had devised together. It was quite clever. Whenever Harry was being maniacal with Quidditch, she told him he was pulling a 'Wood,' referring to Harry's fanatic ex-captain Oliver Wood.

"Just do it, J!"

"Don't use that name on me! Give me my ball!"

"J!"

"HARRY!"

Ron was watching the scene with a great amusement. They were flying around the Quidditch field, chasing one another all the while yelling back and forth. His sister had grown up so quickly, right before his very eyes. He barely recognized her anymore. She was happy, laughing constantly, fifteen, and physically different in ways he didn't want to _think_ his sister was different.

He also saw transformations in himself and his friends… obviously. Harry had found his home at Hogwarts, and he couldn't be happier for him. He had told Ron once that until coming to Hogwarts, he had always felt like a walking can, like there was nothing inside of him except the organs that kept him alive. Sometimes he even wished _those_ weren't there.

Ron had noticed through the course of his fifth year the way Hermione and Harry stared at each other. He had found his new feelings for that so called bossy know-it-all girl the summer of his fourth year but had been mortally crushed when he saw how much Hermione clung to Harry, surprisingly.

So instead, he decided to take a different approach. If he couldn't be the star and hero that Hermione wanted (who just happened to be the star and hero of Hogwarts), he would be the comforting shoulder she needed. Especially after he realized that Harry didn't have the interest in Hermione she had in him at that time. Maybe to hide his true heartache that he couldn't have the girl he liked.

Of course, he liked her still, and he didn't know if he it was just a like if not more now. What he didn't understand was that if he was so depressed before about not having her and now his feelings were stronger, why was he hesitating to have her?

He could answer that easily, however. It was no joke. He liked Hermione, maybe even loved her. It was just a feeling now that was so intense; he didn't know what to do about it. It scared him beyond anything he had ever been scared by… including spiders.

Smiling at his afterthought, he soon brushed it out of his head and thought seriously. Hermione meant everything in the world to him, and if he lost her in a relationship of such a fierce magnitude, he wasn't sure what he would do with himself. He would be a wreck, a complete loss of a human being.

But he knew now, as he watched Harry and Ginny bicker whilst flying that he was in love with Hermione. There was no denying it.

There was no admitting it however, either.

Hermione stared at her reflection hours later in the mirror, brushing her thick brown hair slowly. She was contemplating and going over thoughts in her head.

"Tomorrow is the day," she whispered to Crookshanks, her fat orange cat who was lying on her bed lazily. "Tomorrow, I'm going to tell him. Tomorrow."

Crookshanks only purred happily, closing his eyes. Hermione laughed, set down her brush and stared at her huge brown eyes in the mirror. Her cheeks had been tearstained too often. She was confident, she was secure, she was self-assured…

She was scared out of her mind.

"Oh help," she whispered and climbed into bed, her heart thudding.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It was Christmas Eve. The holiday spirit was happily hanging in the air. Things were going so splendidly for some people that it was obvious the season had touched their hearts in some way.

Harry and Ginny had been spending an unusually large amount of time with each other. Ron hadn't realized it before because of all of his Hermione problems. He had his mind on so many other things that it didn't occur to him that his best friend was constantly on his sister's side.

Staring at the large Christmas tree in the common room on Christmas Eve, he was in deep turmoil. Things were not going the way he wanted at all. He had admitted to himself that he was in love with Hermione, now all he had to do was tell that to her. He didn't know how.

He had gotten Harry a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizbees, and a trick scarf from Zonko's that could be bewitched to advertise any saying the wearer wanted.

He had completely spaced when it came to what to get for Hermione.

This was yet another thing he was feeling guilty for. Through all of his immense instability with the Hermione situation, he had overlooked getting her a Christmas present. He had no time to make one, and all he could do was wait for the next night to roll around. He would have to explain to her what had happened, and maybe confessing that he was in love with her would be enough.

"Merry Christmas to me," he whispered, leaning forward and staring into the fire. His eyes were burning from the dry heat of the flames, but he ignored it. He had begun to cry out of desperation in his heart as well as frustration.

Harry clambered into the common room after a long Quidditch talk with Ginny. He stared at his friend and then frowned, sitting next to him. "Ron, what's the matter?"

"I've got a lot on mind is all," he answered half-heartedly.

"Can I take a guess at what you've got on your mind?" Harry asked, looking toward the fire that Ron was so intently gazing into.

"No, because you'll embarrass me by guessing right," he said softly. Harry nodded in agreement and sat back in his chair. "What did you get her for Christmas?"

Ron's cheeks flushed red and Harry knew it wasn't because of the fire. "I… well, um… funny thing…"

"You didn't get her _anything_?" Harry's eyes popped wide open as he stared at Ron in amazement.

"It didn't cross my mind… I mean… I bought yours weeks ago but I never knew the perfect thing to get Hermione, and now with what's been going on…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"I can understand," Harry said, brushing his messy black hair out of his eyes. "She'd be hard to shop for, in your, um," he coughed, "circumstances."

"Harry, I don't know what I'm going to do," he confided in his friend. "She's always in my thoughts. She's all I think about. I know how I feel about her. Getting it out of my mouth and accepting it is the hard part."

Harry's emerald eyes traveled quickly up to the door of the common room nervously.

"And it's Christmas Eve, one of the most special nights of the year, and here I am, lost in this complete confusion. I don't even have a present for her, for crying out loud!"

Harry sniggered. "I can't believe you forgot her present."

"Hey, shut up!" Ron barked at him.

"I'm just saying… it's odd that you forgot about her present, of all people to forget about. You don't have any idea what to get her?"

Ron bit his lip nervously. "I was thinking about talking to her tomorrow."

"Merry Christmas," Harry muttered, chuckling to himself.

"Shut up," he said again. "I was thinking about telling her something."

"And a Happy New Year," Harry said again through stifled laughter.

Ron leaned over and punched Harry hard in the arm. He only muttered an 'Ow' through his amusement. "I'm serious. What I had to tell her _was_ sacred."

Harry finally understood and stopped laughing. "For Christmas?"

"Yeah. I have nothing to offer her," he said, this time sounding more dejected than he ever had before.

"Well, you have yourself," Harry said uncomfortably.

"What do you mean, myself?"

Harry shifted in his seat uneasily. He obviously wasn't secure talking about Ron and Hermione's possible relationship yet. "Uh… well you uh…" he stammered. Ron watched in a sort of amusement, waiting for an answer. "You… have yourself to give to her in no way you've ever done that before. I mean…" Harry struggled once again for the words. "You love her right?"

Ron's big blue eyes widened in surprise. "_What_?"

"You love her. Am I right?"

"Uh… well… I don't know… um…" Ron was taken aback that Harry had said it so forcefully.

"It's a simple question, Ron, do you love her or not?"

Ron looked at his hands. It was just hours before when he had admitted to himself that he loved her. Saying it out loud would be a different story.

"It's obvious even if you don't say it," Harry pointed out, finally settling into the chair. "It has been for so long now."

Ron sighed heavily, covering his face with his hands. "I need a break."

"Weasley, you are on break," his friend reminded him.

The red head smiled, staring at the fire again. "I know."

There was a sudden relaxed stillness in the air as the boys said nothing and let the spirit of the room overtake them.

"Where is she, by the way?" Ron asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I was sure she was still sleeping a few minutes ago… but I'm not so sure anymore."

"Why?" Ron frowned.

Harry said nothing and pointed behind Ron. Hermione had appeared out of the stairwell. She was fully dressed and Ron gasped for breath. She looked devastating, wearing black pants and a deep purple turtleneck sweater. Her hair was exactly how Ron had always liked it, pulled back into a half ponytail. He stood up instantly.

"I'm awake," she croaked tiredly. It was obvious she had just woken up.

Ron rubbed his sweaty palms on the legs of his trouser and opened his mouth to speak. "Uh… uh… Her-Hermione," he said, stating the obvious.

Hermione, having finally found out what her heart truly wanted her to notice, was more at ease in front of Ron. She had much to tell him, but she wasn't going to talk to him with Harry watching. She had to pick a better time. She didn't want Ron to know she was going to tell him something.

She smiled widely and noticed his nervousness. "Good morning, Ron."

Ron's cheeks blushed a pale shade of pink as he turned to look at Harry quickly. Harry was smirking at him, but encouraged him with his eyes.

"Have you two eaten breakfast yet?" she asked. Now she was starting to become nervous. Ron, for some reason, looked great that morning. Wearing only a deep orange sweater with a dark blue and white checked button up shirt underneath it. He was wearing jean pants and kept nervously scraping his palms along the legs.

"N-No, I haven't," Ron answered before Harry could open his mouth. Harry had not eaten either; he had awaken and gone straight to the Quidditch field to meet Ginny. To answer, Harry only shook his head, enjoying the scene before him immensely.

"All right then," she walked toward the couch where Ron was standing. Her heart thudded inside of her chest. "Shall we go?"

Ron nodded, gulping. Harry stood up obediently as Hermione walked through the portrait hole, leading the way to the Great Hall. Ron stuck faithfully behind.

After having a large and very slow breakfast, the trio made their way back to the common room, talking quietly. They were interrupted by Ginny.

"HARRY! HARRY!" she yelled, holding a stack of papers in the air. "Oh, good morning, Hermione, hey, Ron," she greeted, out of breath. "Harry," she said, shoving the stack of papers at him. "We got it!"

"We got what?" he asked, looking down at the papers in his hands. "This isn't…"

"It is!" she was beaming and Harry's face lit up with joy.

"_What?_" Ron and Hermione screamed in unison.

Ginny and Harry laughed as he hurriedly browsed through the papers. "It's the order from the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic. We asked for a request for Quidditch cup badges on our uniforms and new brooms."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick, confused glance. "And this is _good_?"

"Of course!" Harry screamed. "This is fantastic!"

Ginny was on her toes, she was so happy. Harry grabbed her arm suddenly, and with fervor in his eyes she had never noticed before, he shouted, "J, let's go strategize!"

"Lead the way, Wood!"

They both fled the corridor, leaving Ron and Hermione staring at each other absently. There was silence and tension. Ron finally spoke.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward the library. For the first time in her entire six years at Hogwarts, Hermione grimaced at the mention of the library.

"What do you say we go to the common room? I'm feeling in the mood for chess," she said, giving him a congenial smile.

He looked at her admiringly and followed her lead back up to Gryffindor Tower. They gave their password to the Fat Lady (_'kneazle!'_) and entered through the portrait hole. Hermione settled comfortably into a corner table as Ron went to fetch his chess set.

_Should I do it now?_ Hermione thought suddenly to herself. _Should I tell him right now… should I just get it over and done with? Should I wait? I should wait. No, I should stop putting it off and tell him now._

And just as she was contradicting herself, Ron's large feet thudded on the stairs. He had reappeared with the chessboard and was smiling brightly.

He had been in his room, thinking seriously about the way things were going for the two of them. Hermione was being wonderfully pleasant and he was more than willing to comply with whatever she had to say. He would have gone to the ends of the earth just to keep her happy.

And it was when he thought this that he really smiled for the first time all week. An immense weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he still only had one thing left weighing on his conscious.

_Tell Hermione._

They set up the chessboard and their pieces, and then began. Within five minutes, Ron obviously had Hermione licked. It never failed to astonish her how good he was at chess. It was almost as if he were one of the chess pieces himself, standing in the middle of the field…

But he _had _done that already.

"What is it?" Ron asked, seeing Hermione's big goofy grin. He too, had one on his face.

"Nothing," she said, wistfully as she moved a pawn.

"No, come on, tell me." His tone was gentle and soft. Her body tingled with warmth and delight.

She sighed heavily as Ron continued to completely take over the chessboard. "I was thinking about first year."

Ron looked at her, surprised and then smiled himself. "Yeah, that was something."

Hermione only stared ahead at the pawns, and suddenly her thoughts came tumbling out. "You're just so good at chess… You never fail to impress me when we play or when I watch you and Harry play. It makes me think that you truly have the mind of a chess piece. And then I remembered that you kind of did."

Ron gazed up at Hermione lovingly, moving to remove one of her pawns just as she did so as well. Their hands touched for a moment and a spark of electricity shot through their hands. They lifted their eyes slowly to each other and then back down.

"Sometimes I wonder where this concentration goes when you have to apply it to schoolwork as opposed to chess," she laughed.

"Check mate," he whispered and then reset the pieces. "Don't ask. I just don't care as much, I suppose."

Hermione couldn't believe he could be so apathetic. Here was a young man who obviously had passion and intelligence that he didn't feel like applying. He could have been so much more if he had really cared to try. She voiced this to him and he only shrugged.

"It's not really easy when I try and push myself to my 'full potential,' " he stated. "I have three extremely smart older brothers… Fred and George… and then there's Ron. I'm just the youngest boy in the family, not much more."

Hermione's heart fell. That was all he thought of himself? Nothing more than the youngest son? That was it? That was as far as he wanted to push his full potential?

Again, she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when someone suddenly walked into the common room. It was Ginny.

"Have either of you seen Harry?"

"We thought he was with you," Hermione replied, frowning.

"I lost him," she said, frowning as well. "What are you doing?" she asked, changing her tone to that of excitement and curiosity.

"Knitting scarves," Ron answered, moving one of his pawns cleverly.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at Ron. "Ha, ha."

There was once again quiet. Ron was concentrating on the game, whereas Hermione stared into his face. He was so handsome. She was completely amazed by her own reactions to his changing expressions. His wrinkled forehead, his piercing blue-eyed gaze, his large but soft hand caressing his chin in thought… it all sparked such an unbelievable interest in her that it felt like her senses were suddenly on fire.

He looked up cautiously before moving a pawn. He saw Hermione's large and confident brown eyes staring right at him and as he caught her gaze, she nervously looked away. Smirking to himself, he watched as she focused on what to do next. Strands of her endearingly curly hair were falling onto her soft, pink cheeks. Her bright eyes scanned the board as she tapped her long, thin fingers on the side of the table, holding her head up with the other hand.

Hermione finally looked up to move her pawn and stared straight on into Ron's eyes. He was taken aback at the sheer magnitude of feelings and emotions spilling from them. No matter how much time he had spent hoping she shared the same sentiments as he did, it scared him.

He stood up quickly and fumbled for words to say. "I… uh… Ginny, whatdya say we go look for Harry together?"

Hermione's jaw went slack. Ron turned to her quickly. "Hermione, you want to come?"

She kept her mouth open, intent on bellowing at him for jumping up and wanting to leave her alone in the common room. But she thought better of it, closed her mouth, and nodded.

Ron followed Ginny out of the portrait hole as Hermione slowly ambled behind, arms crossed, staring at her feet as she marched on. Ron continued to look over his shoulder at her and didn't know what to do or say. It was obvious that the pleasant mood they had been in was gone. He had blown it in a flash.

Harry was sitting on the floor in the library, drawing up new, creative Quidditch plays he wanted to try out. He saw Ginny and instantly brightened up. "I was looking for you," he said breathily.

She sprawled out on her stomach in front of the large poster board of a pitch Harry had. "I was looking for you, too."

"I came up with this great new play," he answered as if he were speaking to himself. "See, the Beaters are going to come up from both sides of the opposing Chaser. One's going to hit the Bludger to the farthest Chaser to throw this one off, and then the second one will straggle behind while the Bludger comes back up…"

Harry's ramblings trailed off to Ron and Hermione's ears. Hermione was staring at the back of Ron's red head. It was pointed downward and his hands were now shoved in his pockets. She finally decided that if she wasn't going to be serving any greater purpose, she was leaving.

Hearing Hermione's shoes clicking on the floor as she stormed away, Ron turned around and raced after her.

Catching up to her quicker than he had anticipated, he grabbed her arm gently and neither of them missed how quivers of excitement traveled through their bodies at this gesture. "Hermione," Ron whispered.

"What?" she whispered back, not looking at him.

He pulled her closer in hopes she would look up and he'd be able to say something, anything to her that was on his mind and heart. She still looked away, averting his eyes at all costs.

"Hermione," he whispered again.

She wrenched her arm from his grasp, backing up a couple of steps. "Does it scare you, Ron?"

"Does what scare me?" he asked, almost understanding what she meant.

She rubbed her arms as if trying to keep in some warmth. She looked toward the wall and back up at Ron. Misty tears were lingering in her eyes as she answered.

"New feelings, things you never thought you'd feel in the entire world. Does it scare you?"

After a long moment of silence, he again whispered, "To death."

Hermione said nothing but turned around and headed back to the tower. Ron stepped forward and reached out to her, but didn't follow.

It wasn't until dark that Ron returned to the common room. He had spent all day in the library with Harry and Ginny giving his advice as a spectator on Quidditch tactics. He had only stolen away from them to eat and go talk to Hermione… or at least _tried _to talk to Hermione. He knocked on the door of the girl's dorm, but she had only screamed, "Go away Ronald Weasley!"

Harry and Ginny were now in the courtyard, practicing some of their new moves as Ron sat alone in a comfortable armchair in front of the fire. He was so entranced in his thoughts that he failed to notice Hermione standing right next to him.

"Ron."

He nearly jumped out of his chair and stared threateningly at her. "What do you think you're doing, trying to scare me to death?"

"No," she said, sitting down on the couch, folding her hands. She looked as if she had something to say. "I wanted to talk to you."

He raised his eyebrows. "I couldn't talk to you about three hours ago and an hour before that and an hour before that, but all of a sudden you _want_ to talk?"

"Yes."

Ron knew better than to try and outwit Hermione. She had him beat in that capacity.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked with a great heave, staring at the fire.

"Ronald, look at me."

Her voice was so calm that it gave Ron a series of chills that traveled down his spine. It didn't seem like whatever she had to tell him was good.

"What I asked you earlier… does it scare you to have new feelings… I was more or less asking myself the same question. I can answer it the same exact way that you did. I'm scared to death of these new and real feelings I've been having." Ron gulped. "I didn't want you to come in earlier because I was trying to sort everything out. I've been trying to do that for so long that I was on edge constantly."

Ron gave a snorting noise and smirked at Hermione. She in turn did not smile back. He became grim again.

"It only occurred to me why these constant fights have been bothering me so," she then got up and walked over to him. He stood up suddenly and instinctively remained rooted to his spot. She crossed to him; coming closer and closer until he was sure that her eyes were so close he could see right into her soul.

He swallowed hard. "And why is that?"

She didn't know what else to do. She was doing everything she had rehearsed out in her head. She was going to kiss him. Yes. She was going to kiss him.

She couldn't. Staring up at him now it was completely ludicrous to want to do it. He looked scared out of his mind.

"I think that, um," she started, feeling some kind of lump form in her throat. "I think I might be, uh…" she lowered her voice to an almost inaudible hush. "I think I'm in love with you."

Ron had heard her plain as day, and while he was ecstatic to know that he wasn't the only one in on the feelings, it scared him more than ever to hear her actually say it out loud. Which road did he take? Did he confess his undying love to her, telling her that he had been in love with her ever since he had seen her that first year on the train? That even though he had always been rude to her and acted like he couldn't stand her, really he was harboring tense feelings for her? That when he got that first glimpse of her during fourth year at the Yule Ball, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her? That the only reason he was in such turmoil was because he was just as desperately in love with her as she was with him, if not more?

No.

He backed away from her, his eyes wide. He was too scared to speak. She frowned. "Ron? What's wrong?"

"I… I…" he started but nothing even wanted to come out at this point. She had said it. 'I think I'm in love with you.' Was he dreaming or had she said it out loud to him just now?

"Ron…" she asked, approaching him.

He tripped over chairs to get away from her. She stopped and stared at him, crossing her arms defiantly. She suddenly had regained her spark and he knew what he was in for. He couldn't help but run though. The farther he got away from the statement, the sooner he would realize that he wasn't being crazy. They couldn't be in love with each other… he'd lose her.

"Ron!" she screamed now, and Ron jumped at it. He had turned a disgustingly pale shade. Hermione was appalled. "You are so selfish!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

She was enraged. Throwing up her hands and beginning to pace, she screamed, "You're acting so immature. I tell you something that's been just sitting on my mind for so long that it's driving me mad and all you can do is trip and stumble on yourself?" Ron said nothing. "WELL?"

"I can't… I can't answer you… I don't know how…"

"Well, here's a start. 'I'm glad you told me how you feel Hermione, but I'm not in love with you. I don't feel that way about you.' That's a good one."

"I can't say that."

"Why?"

_Because I am so in love with you I want to scream. _"I can't say that," he repeated, wiping his profusely sweaty palms on his pants.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said in both an irate and shaky tone. Ron started to feel his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. "I can't go on… I can't just sit back and pretend that I don't have feelings for you and that I haven't had them long enough to know what they are anymore. I was afraid that if I didn't get this all out of the way, I'd just die under the pressure. I expected something back… anything… I didn't get my hopes up, but I tried. That's all that matters… but you tripped over yourself and bumbled… how am I supposed to react to that?"

Ron couldn't find the right words to answer her. "I don't know, Hermione. I understand what you mean by getting it all off of your chest. But I don't understand what you mean when you say you can't go on?"

Hermione stopped in front of the fire and stared at it like she was trying to freeze it. "I've admitted my feelings for you, and I now know that if I don't get any positive outcome, I'm not going to be able to just let the feelings lie."

"W-What are you talking about?" Ron was now very scared.

"You can't be in love with your best friend."

Ron went pale. "What are you saying?"

"Ron," she approached him now and he could see, to his shame, that there were tears spilling in shiny rivers down her cheeks. "I can't just sit in front of you for the rest of my life and know that I'm in love with you and can't have you. I won't do it."

He frowned. "Are you blackmailing me into something?"

Hermione's fury returned. "Ex_cus_e me?"

"Are you saying that if I don't respond to this positively you'll just take back our friendship? Six years, Hermione? SIX YEARS! How can you do that? It's not fair!"

"NOT FAIR? NOT FAIR!" Hermione was enraged. She pulled out her wand and pointed it fiercely at Ron. He backed up in shock and fear. "I'll tell you what's not fair, Ronald Weasley! Staying up in my dorm every night while I'm trying to get my homework done but realizing I can't because all I can think about is you. Crying endlessly every single time we get into a fight. Caring about you when you are sick to the point that I've spent hours on the toilet in the lavatory. Walking around with this lingering over my head when I knew in some way, shape, or form, I'd be shot down for it. Carrying an endless fear of admitting my feelings to you and then worrying that if anything were to work out between us, we'd lose it and then I'd lose you. That's not fair, Ronald. After standing here, telling you how much in love with you I am and hearing nothing from you, I'm expected to pick back up the pieces of my shattered heart and act like before? It won't happen."

She let her arm down back to her side and backed up a little. She was crying hard now and as she stared at Ron, a single tear fell from his eye as well. The moment she saw that, she knew that he shared the same feelings… but was too scared to admit it. Yet that was no excuse for the way he was acting.

Ron reached out to her but she backed away disgustedly. "When you have time for me, Weasley, I may or may not be willing to let you into my life."

And with one final look, Hermione fled the common room and went to the dorm. Ron couldn't remember the last time he had cried, but he knew he was in for it tonight.

Walking up the stairs toward the girls' dorm ten minutes later, he pressed his ears to the door and heard muffled sobs on the other side. Hermione was doing it again… crying because of him. How would he ever win?

Feeling tears of his own resurfacing, he put his back up to the wall and slid all the way down, leaning his head on the door and thinking to himself, _If only I had one more chance_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Christmas couldn't have been darker for Hermione Granger as she rolled over that morning. As soon as her eyelids opened and she could readily think and recall, her heart sunk into the pit of her stomach. What a way to wake up on Christmas morning. All she could think about was being shut down by Ron last night. It didn't even seem to matter that she knew deep down in his heart somewhere he loved her too. He hadn't admitted it when she did, which made everything twice as bad. How could she face him?

Harry and Ron were making a huge racket downstairs, laughing and yelling, opening Christmas presents.

_Nice to know he's as upset over this as I am_, she thought bitterly. Tears sprang to her eyes once again and she rolled over to cry into her pillow.

The problem was, she couldn't.

Sitting on the pillow next to her was a large object of some kind. She lifted her head up, rubbed at her eyes and stared at what was lying next to her.

It was none other than a large, silky pink flower. It was the Fidelis.

Her mouth dropped open and she brushed the hair away from her face. Reaching over quickly to grab a hair tie, she threw her bushy locks into a messy ponytail and grabbed the flower. There was a note attached to it. She opened it and read:

'For bravery and courage standing in the face of fire.

I hope you know what this means.'

She couldn't even hold the flower any longer. It nearly dropped out of her trembling hands. She knew very well what this meant, but how was she going to let that be enough for what happened between Ron and her?

But it was the _Fidelis_… of course she had read all about it, even information that hadn't been mentioned in class. Ron knew what it meant. Everyone in the wizarding world regarded the gift of a Fidelis as the turning point in someone's life. This meant that they were truly bound to that person for the rest of his or her life.

Though it excited her to a point where she was barely able to speak, she still didn't know what to do about him. He had professed his love for her by giving her the flower. Yet he had chickened out in telling her to her face the night before. It wasn't as easy just to duck out of it.

Still staring at the flower, she set it down and began to dress. She had almost completely forgotten about the presents for her friends under the bed. Remembering what she had bought for Ron, it seemed to be completely overshadowed by his present to her.

Throwing on a soft red sweater, a black skirt, and her black knickers, she grabbed the flower and made her way quietly down to the common room. If she was going to face either of them, it would have to be cautiously so as not to attract much attention to herself.

She approached the entrance of the stairwell and listened as the boys talked about their hopes for the Quidditch match coming up. Pausing before entering, she mustered all the courage she could in the world. She wasn't going to say anything about the Fidelis, she was going to wait for Ron to say something to her about it. If he was that desperate to show his love for her, he would have no problem saying it out loud.

Hermione finally stepped out of the darkness of the stairway and was first spotted by Harry. The two were sitting on the couch in their pajamas, wearing the sweaters Mrs. Weasley had sent them, Ron's maroon, Harry's green. Ginny was also seated in the Room at that time. She was closer to the fire, smiling and bright as well. She was wearing a bright pink sweater that her mother had made for her.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione," Harry said cheerfully.

Ron turned bright red and looked immediately at his hands after Harry greeted her. Then he made a move to look up and saw that she was holding his flower. His heart gave a thud and his hopes rose. Could this mean…?

"Merry Christmas, Harry," she said softly, and then glanced over at Ron. He was staring intently at what was in her hand. She suddenly had no voice and proceeded to mouth the same to Ron. His eyes traveled up to meet her face where she held a neutral expression.

"What's that, Hermione?" Ginny broke in, nodding toward the flower.

"Oh," she said, breaking from a trance of some sort. She held it out for Ginny to see. "It's a Christmas present. Called a Fidelis, you'll learn about it next year."

Ginny stared at it. "Do you know who gave it to you?"

Hermione's eyes darted toward Ron quickly and oddly enough, Harry broke in to the rescue. "Hey, I got a gift for you, Hermione," he said, standing up and walking over to the tree. Hermione sat down on the floor next to Ginny and let her take the flower for a second to examine it.

Harry handed Hermione his gift. It was a long, rectangular box and she frowned in confusion as she opened it. She pulled off the lid off, and through the tissue paper she saw a large, leather bound book. This was definitely a new one.

Pulling the book out and opening it, she discovered that it was something she had never read before. It was a collection of pictures of Ron, Harry, and her. It went from their first year up to their sixth and each picture had its own unique quality and humorous background. She smiled broadly and lightly let her fingers graze over each picture, allowing the memories to flood over her.

She looked up at Harry with tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she said, setting down the book and hugging Harry gently. He accepted the friendly embrace willingly as Ron cast an angry glance at the two.

"That reminds me," she said, suddenly, grabbing her book from the floor and racing up to the dorm. She set it on her bed and reached for the presents and then stared at Ron's gift. Should she give it to him after what he had given her?

Deciding that it didn't matter at that point, she carried the presents she had gotten for Harry, Ron, and Ginny down and handed them to their respective owners. Ginny looked guiltily at Hermione, commenting on how she hadn't had the time (or money) to get her anything. Hermione laughed it off. She had gotten Ginny a nice pink sweater that completely contrasted from the one her mother had always made her. It was pale in color and very soft. Ginny beamed and ran to the dorms immediately to try it on.

Harry opened his present to find that Hermione had bought him a very expensive pair of water-and-shatter-proof glasses.

"I hope those are okay," she said hastily. "I mean, I saw them and I thought you could use them for Quidditch. Plus they look like your regular glasses."

Harry took off his old pair and put on the new ones. They were perfect. "Thanks Hermione, they're wonderful!"

Ron sat on the couch placidly, Hermione's present sitting on his lap. He was staring at her so intently that he felt he could burn a whole right through her if he tried. She was acting as if nothing had happened the night before and was blowing off the flower as if it had been a bag of candy.

It rattled him so much that he forgot to open his present.

Hermione rounded on Ron and saw that he was staring at her fiercely. Her heart skipped a beat but she didn't falter. She wanted to be as civil as possible.

"Ron?"

Ron started at the sound of his name, staring into Hermione's eyes for the first time that morning. He knew for sure that she was simply covering up what she was really feeling. There was no possible way that after what she had told him the night before she could act as though it hadn't even happened the next morning.

He looked down at his gift and pulled the wrapping off slowly. He was suddenly curious about what she had gotten him. Throwing the wrapping off to the side and disregarding the Hermione's sigh at his carelessness with his trash, he opened the box his prize had come in. Hermione ducked behind the couch to grab the paper he had thrown out and as he opened it, a large gasp of amazement forced her to look up.

"Where… how… Her… how did you…?" Ron was at a lost for words.

Hermione peered over the couch and saw Ron throw on the cloak she had gotten him. He instantly disappeared.

"Where did you find one?" Harry asked, standing up and going over to the box to get a closer look.

Ron's head reappeared and Hermione gazed at him lovingly. He was in such bliss that she wanted to forget everything that had happened and allow herself to be free again. His crooked smile was back and so too the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Hermione?" Harry called again, pulling her from her trance. She looked up at Harry and then suddenly remembered what had happened the night before, stiffening her resolve.

"Oh, yeah, well, funny thing," she said, standing up and going to toss the paper into the fire. "I was in Diagon Alley with my parents about a week before school began," she started, sitting next to the fire on the floor. "I went into the second-hand robe shop so I could pick up some dress robes and found it in the back. I recognized it because Harry had one. The shop owner had no idea what it was. Apparently the witch who turned it over had put an Anti-Muggle Charm on it so no one would know what it was and I managed to remove it with a counter curse. I thought it was brilliant."

"It is," came Ron's voice from the back of the room. He had thrown the hood on while Hermione was talking and was now testing it out.

Ginny appeared out of the stairwell. She had put on the pink sweater and tied her hair back. Harry stood up at once.

"Where's Ron?" Ginny asked, frowning.

A familiar cackling came from behind Ginny. She whipped around and backed up hurriedly. "You _bought _it for him?" she snapped at Hermione.

Hermione shrugged and Ron flipped his hood up. "You knew about it?"

"She told me," Ginny said offhandedly, staring at her brother as if he were crazy. She turned to Hermione and handed the flower to her.

Ron watched as Hermione grasped the flower hungrily and instantly planted it against her chest. His heart thudded crazily. Would he still have to say it to her? He had intentions of doing that anyway, but somehow watching her he lost all of his nerve. Where was that golden heart when he needed it?

"I don't feel much up to Quidditch today, Harry," Ginny said unexpectedly. Harry looked up quickly and smiled at her.

"I really didn't have intentions of doing that," he answered. "I was kind of hoping I could just relax in here all day."

Ginny smiled at Harry brightly, settling down on the floor and gazing calmly into the fire. Hermione watched as Harry joined Ginny on the floor and started to talk to her about nothing in particular. She smiled. If only things could be that simple and easy.

Looking around the common room, she didn't see Ron anywhere in sight. He was obviously having quite a bit of fun in his cloak. The silence was deafening and Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. Harry had Ginny, Ron had his cloak, and she had her thoughts. It was time for more studying.

Grasping her flower tightly against her, she made her way toward the portrait hole, scrambled out quickly, and left the other three to their own devices.

Still in his cloak, Ron sat in the back of the room quietly. It was a good thing he had it on, because the last thing he wanted Hermione to see the sullen, depressed way he stared at her while tears flooded his cheeks. He had never cried so much in his life. There were those instances in which he'd felt physical pain and had to let it out, but he had never cried to alleviate emotional anguish.

Now he had to. It was no use just letting it brew up inside of him when it was so obvious that he had to let go of all of it. He had to face his pain.

It hurt that Hermione had said nothing about the flower. Did she not realize what it meant for him to give that to her? He recalled the night before and how badly he felt as he sat outside of the door and listened to her sob. He felt completely immobilized, like all he could do was sit there and wait… wait… wait until she was done crying. Would she ever be done crying? She had poured her entire heart out to him and in turn he had gotten scared and run away from her.

He loved her, he loved her so much that it made him choke up all inside. He couldn't be happy without her. He didn't know what he would do if he lost her. He wanted to burst into that room and tell her he was wrong. He was wrong to back away from her. He was in love, head over heels. But how could he just take back all of what he had said before and expect her to take him in?

That was when the idea to give her the flower had come into his head. He didn't have a Christmas present for her, and the flower had been sitting by his bed day in and day out. It was waiting to be given to someone. He didn't know why the answer hadn't come to him sooner. It should have been so obvious. Everything Professor Sprout had said to him came back:

'_I may be just an old witch who deals with herbs and plants, but I know my intuition is never wrong. You give that flower to the one special person who deserves it from you for Christmas._'

He had been in love with Hermione from the very beginning and even the Herbology teacher had seen it… no wonder she had asked him to perform the charm. It was inevitable.

But how would he ever get Hermione to realize that? Didn't Professor Sprout tell him to give the golden heart to her as well? How could he? It was his only defense; it made him strong around her. How could he give it to her?

Instead, he had snuck into her room after he knew she was finished crying, given her the flower, and attached the note. She would definitely know what it meant. She would come tearing down the stairs and into his arms, and he would finally be the happiest man in the world.

Yet she had come down the stairs, holding the flower like it was the most precious gift in the world (which it was) and saying nothing. She hadn't even look at him and it broke his heart. And then the cloak.

She had always known he'd wanted an invisibility cloak after Harry had gotten one. She'd also known how unbelievably rare they were. She had seen the cloak and immediately thought of him. That had to count for something. He loved it and couldn't think of anything he would rather have gotten.

Except for one thing of course, and that something couldn't be bought.

Taking off the cloak, reappearing, and tossing it to the side, he ran straight out of the common room unnoticed. He knew exactly where Hermione had gone.

Upon entering the library, he was shocked to hear it so quiet. Even though Madam Pince usually stressed silence throughout her precious sanctuary, there was never actually a table of students who remained quiet. During the holidays though, it always seemed like the entire school was eerily empty, even though he mostly enjoyed it.

Settled by a back table, Hermione was hidden behind a stack of books and he guessed she had done it purposely. She was obviously working on one of the many assignments she claimed she needed to get done.

He crept noiselessly toward her and sat down without causing her head to raise up at all.

Finally he spoke and broke the silence.

"What did you think of your flower?"

Hermione started at the sound of his voice, spilling ink all over the place. She groaned loudly. "Ronald Weasley! Look what you did! Now I have to start on this stupid thing all over! It got on my notes! I can't believe how careless you are."

Red flushed over his face as he mumbled a, "Sorry." She moved her books around and with a flick of her wand the mess was gone.

"What do _you_ want?" she said, sitting down to begin again.

"I wanted to know what you thought of the flower… I mean you came downstairs and didn't even say anything about it… or talk to me."

Hermione groaned again and reached for the flower. "It's lovely, Ron," she said tonelessly.

Ron blinked. "It's a Fidelis."

"I'm aware of that."

"Are you _stupid_?"

Hermione slammed her quill down and stared at Ron's unhappy blue eyes. "What did you expect of me Ronald? What did you want me to do?"

Ron didn't miss the fact that Hermione had used his full name more than once in the same conversation.

"I… I just thought that maybe after everything last night, you'd understand…"

"What would I understand? That after I swallowed my pride to tell you what I told you, I should just accept this after you ran out on me? I cried for almost—"

"Four hours," Ron finished for her. Hermione looked shocked. "I was at the door… I know because I cried that long as well."

Hermione was finally shocked into silence. Never would she have imagined that Ron Weasley, so strong, so stable… would have cried right along with her.

"Why do you think I gave you that flower?" he asked her.

"I don't think it's right that I stood in front of you, baring it all, and then you just expect it to be okay for you to hide behind a present."

Ron blinked. "So it had been for nothing? I stared at that flower for a week, wondering why Professor Sprout had given it to me, just to have you not realize what it meant?"

"Oh I realize," she screamed at him, standing up. "I REALIZE! I didn't wake up this morning, find that flower and toss it aside. I sat there for almost ten minutes trying to figure out where to go. I know what you thought. You expected me to fly down the stairs into your arms didn't you?" Ron looked away guiltily. "Ron, it doesn't work that way. Not after the ego crushing you gave me last night."

Ron felt his eyes flood with tears again. Hermione continued. "I don't know what you expected of me, Ron. You didn't respond to me and I knew you wanted to. I saw it in your eyes, I know you love me, but I need to hear you say it. I don't know how much longer I can wait."

Ron shot up like a cork. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything. You know how long I've waited for you to say what you said to me? I expected to say it back and be all fine and dandy, but then you actually said it and it scared me. I didn't know what to think. I was terrified. I don't want to fall in love with you, be with you, and then lose you. I don't think I'd be able to handle it. There's no me without you."

Hermione listened as his voice quavered. She stepped from behind the other side of the table and stood close to Ron. "Then say it, Ron."

"What?"

"Say it!"

Ron felt himself shaking all over at the reality of Hermione being so close to him. He could feel her body heat and he could easily peer down onto her face, into her large brown eyes. Her skin looked so soft, her hair so beautiful, her tender cherry lips were so close to his skin that he started to sweat on the spot. Being this close to her was dangerous to his health.

"If you love me, then say it."

Ron couldn't. He had forgotten how to move his mouth; he didn't know how to talk. He was sure that his throat had dried out from all the sweat pouring from his hands and forehead at that time. She was close, pursing her lips up at him expectantly, waiting… waiting.

"I… I…"

"I don't know what you want me to do if you don't say it," Hermione whispered longingly as her eyes closed.

Ron slowly craned his neck down to meet her face. Could this be it? Did this mean that finally, after all that crying, after all of his instability, he would finally have the one thing he wanted most in the world, Hermione's heart?

"I… I…" he repeated, this time softer and slower.

"Say it," she said.

Their lips half an inch from touching, he whispered, "I can't."

The moment was broken and Hermione stepped away, angry. "Then there's no way I can kiss you like this."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

It had taken Ron the rest of the day to nurse his ego back to health. Now he knew what it felt like. He was determined to set things straight with her. The next day, things would be completely different between him and Hermione.

He woke up completely refreshed, even though the day before had been such a disaster. He had spent the rest of that day reserved and as far from Hermione as possible. All he could think about was how right Hermione had been in the end, like she always was. He had had plenty of time to think it over while Harry and Ginny worked with their drawing of the pitch. Being alone for Ron Weasley at that point was no problem. He had tons of homework to do, and plenty of time to do it now.

However, when he had gotten all of his books out and started, he realized that a lot of what he didn't understand he would need Hermione's help on. Sitting there, realizing this fact wasn't going to make him work any faster.

Closing his books and making his way upstairs, he decided that all he could do was sit around and think. He spent the rest of the night in his room, practicing Charms, Transfiguration, and thinking.

Once dressed that next morning, he knew for sure what he was going to do. Listening to the whooping and screaming outside, he knew that Harry and Ginny had gotten a head start on the morning to practice on their broomsticks. Sure enough, when he poked his head out, he saw that they were both on broom, covered head to toe with dirt, mud, grass and the like. He smiled, closing the window and backing up a few paces.

He was now excited. With Harry and Ginny out of the castle, he would be able to easily confront Hermione without being bothered by anyone.

Racing down the stairs so fast that he nearly tripped over his feet, Ron eagerly awaited seeing his beloved's precious face. All he could think about was how happy the day before he had become when he'd almost kissed her. How hot and tingly his body had gotten when she had stepped so close to him. It had felt like every inch of him was on fire. He wanted that feeling all the time.

Hermione was not occupying any of the couches in the common room; in fact, the room was completely empty. That was quite a rarity. After racing through the vacant common room, there was no question where he was going to head to next.

Yet once he had gotten to the library, searched high and low and at every table, he found that Hermione had not taken refuge in her usual spot.

Now completely confused, Ron scratched his red head and walked out of the library. There were only so many places Hermione Granger could go… maybe she wasn't even awake?

Making his way toward the Great Hall, he felt his heart finally start to pound nervously. What was he actually going to say to her? He felt like he had rehearsed it three million times but in truth he had no clue what he was going to say once he had her face to face. Maybe he would be so lost in her wonderful beauty… he would neglect to speak.

To his complete and utter dismay (and not to mention bewilderment), the Great Hall was empty as well. Turning around again, he stalked through the lobby and back up the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower. If he couldn't find her in the common room or the dorms, he would have to do a room-to-room search.

"Where in the bloody hell is Hermione?" he muttered under his breath. He raced back into the common room and still found no sign of her.

Collapsing into an armchair gloomily, he put his hands over his face. It was going to happen today. It just had to.

The screams and shouts coming from outside became louder and more gleeful. Ron scowled. How could his two friends be so happy when he was in the deepest trouble of his teenage life?

"Harry! Don't grab the end of my broomstick! That's a foul!"

"What foul, Ginny? I want to see how much you've been studying."

"Cut her some slack, Harry! You can't expect her to know, you've had the book in your trunk since the beginning of Christmas break."

His heart leapt. _Her _voice! It was Hermione! She was outside! How could he have overlooked the fact that she was outside?

Palms sweating, heart thudding like crazy, he jumped up and scrambled out the portrait hole, forgetting to grab his discarded robes.

"Take this and throw them up at me. I want to see how well I catch them," Harry called to Hermione, sending a package of golf balls down to her.

"All right," she said, opening them up quickly as Harry prepared in the air with Ginny.

"Now J, I want you to try as hard as you can to throw me off while I do this, and you carry that soccer ball while doing it. I'll be trying to knock it out of your arm. Ready with those balls Hermione?"

Hermione gave a thumbs up and began to do as she had been told. She laughed at the two as they knocked into each other and nearly toppled off the brooms.

"Thanks, Hermione, that was fun," Harry called.

"Yes, very entertaining!" Ginny agreed, laughing.

Ron walked out at the right time. Hermione had just set down the empty package she was holding, called up to Harry she had work to do, and walked away. Shivering from head to toe not only from the cold, Ron knew this was his chance. He had to do it now.

Hermione had just turned to enter the castle when she spotted the fiery red hair emerging. She swallowed the huge lump that was forming in her throat and proceeded toward him. She couldn't let her legs give out now.

"Hermione!" he called suddenly, not being able to contain his excitement.

"Hello, Ron," she answered in an impartial tone. She walked right past him.

Words suddenly failed him, as he had expected they would the whole time. Chasing after her rapidly on liquid-like feet, he walked close to her.

"Hermione, I have to talk to you."

"Okay, Ron, talk, I'm on my way to the dorms," she said, not looking up.

"Listen, there's something I need to say to you and I can't say it when you're walking that fast."

Hermione's heart gave a lurch. He was going to say it… he was going to say it…

She stopped walking and Ron crashed into her. "Okay," she sighed, turning around to face him, yet her eyes stayed downward.

"Hermione, look at me." His tone was so gentle that Hermione's hopes were confirmed. "I've been doing some thinking," he began. A large knot twisted in his stomach, but disappeared immediately.

"And I love you. I love the way you're always the first person with your hand in the air in class. I love the way you give me that look when I'm not studying. I love the way you walk into a room and have that air of pure confidence. I love the way you complain about your hair but gently play with it while you're thinking. I love the look on your face when we're playing chess. I love the way you nag me about getting my work done and being more efficient during exam time… I love your eyes, Hermione. I love your hair, I love your smile… I love everything about you. I love the way you told me first you loved me, too. I love your stubborn will to make me a better person and make me say all of this out loud."

Ron couldn't believe the rant he had gone off on after saying what he had to say. Obviously he had had a lot on his mind.

Hermione's eyes filled with unmistakable tears and they bled swiftly down her cheeks. "You know that is just like you, Ron," she said, a quaver in her voice. "You give me all of these reasons as to why you love me… You give me the one thing that in the wizarding world means you want to be bound with me and only me forever… You look at me with that face of yours… And you expect me just to fall in love with you. But I hate you, Ron. I hate you."

Ron smirked at Hermione. "I really hate you," she repeated.

He stepped closer to her, smiling. Hermione could be a handful, but she was his handful and he was completely prepared to manage her.

Ron put his right hand comfortingly on Hermione's tearstained cheek. She was staring at him with blurry eyes. "Don't cry anymore, I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, and with all the courage he could muster in the world, he pulled Hermione into his first kiss.

Once their lips pressed together, it was unlike any other magic the two had performed in their lives. Hermione knew that she would never cast a spell as moving as this kiss. It was so passionate, so full, and so beautiful that she continued to cry, but this time she cried different tears.

Pulling away from Hermione, Ron put his hands on her face and caught her eyes with his own. "I love you and I know that now."

Hermione closed her eyes and let tears slip down her cheeks again.

"It's about time," she whispered to him.

"I'll say!" said a voice behind them. They whipped around to see that Harry and Ginny were standing behind them, peering behind a wall, listening mischievously.

The two looked at each other and the four began to laugh. They laughed so hard that they all forgot themselves for a few seconds. Hermione finally looked back at Ron after Harry and Ginny had returned to practice.

"That flower, Weasley," she said in a threatening tone.

"What?" he asked, confused. "What about it?"

"You better have really meant it when you gave it to me," she said in a husky voice. She was blinking her eyes at him lovingly. "You better have intended to be with me forever."

"Always, always," he said, clutching her face and kissing her again.

And floating past the window, a quick yell broke the mood.

"OH GIVE ME A BREAK!"

Two days later, Ron sat outside on the Quidditch field, Quidditch field, feeling as frozen as he had a few days before. This time however, he didn't seem to notice that his toes had lost all feeling. He still had feeling in his hands, which mattered.

Hermione grasped them tightly as she snuggled up to Ron. Her head was now resting on his shoulder and she got as close to him as she could without sitting on top of him. Both pairs of hands clasped each other for added warmth… or so they said. Ron found that Hermione's large mop of unruly brown hair served as a wonderful cheek warmer. It also smelled heavenly.

"You stupid prat!" Harry said, throwing the soccer ball at Ginny's head.

"ME a stupid prat? Oh, Potter, you ROTTER!" she screamed, diving in for the kill. He narrowly avoided colliding with the young Weasley girl and laughed as they chased each other around the pitch.

"They're something else," Ron whispered to Hermione, who had been dozing happily next to him.

"They certainly are," Hermione closed her eyes and got still closer to Ron.

Ron smiled down at Hermione and then back up at the sky. He pushed his face further into Hermione's hair and thought that for once, everything was as perfect as it could be. He had never even hoped to dream that Hermione would be sitting so close to him, snuggling with him when she could have been in the library, perfectly well, doing plenty of studying. Thankfully, things had not turned out that way for them. She was becoming relaxed and loving for him. He knew that what he had to offer her was to work as hard as he could. Whatever it was. At work, at school, with her, their relationship. He had to make the valiant effort and have courage to do it.

And he didn't even need the golden heart.


End file.
